


We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands

by lahdolphin



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Multi, Past Abuse, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 85,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahdolphin/pseuds/lahdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marui and Jackal are in a band, Niou is a punk stoner, Yagyuu is breaking bad, Kirihara is a skateboard junkie, and Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi are going along for the ride. No one said high school would be like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Cute_ , Marui thinks as he blows a bubble. 

Marui looks at the new guy, who has one of those sharp and pointy faces that makes you think of an elf, at the void in his strange blue eyes, at the small holes in his ears where gauged earrings should be. He stands slouched with his lanky arms at his sides and hands in his back pockets. 

“Class, this is Niou Masaharu. He’ll be with us for the rest of the year. Niou-kun, say something about yourself.”

“I don’t want to.”

The teacher sighs and grips the bridge of his nose. “Go and sit next to Marui-kun. He’s the one about to swallow his gum because he knows he’ll get detention if he doesn’t.”

Marui sticks his gum under his tongue, swallows spit, and flashes the teacher a dazzling smile. “Sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Now, we’re going to continue our lecture on techniques used to solve higher order differential equations...”

Niou walks silently and swiftly like a cat. He sits in his chair and there’s so much space between his stomach and the desk that Marui wonders if this guy eats. He doesn’t spare a glance for Marui and stares blankly at the chalkboard. Marui can see the chords of headphones running down his neck and under his sweater. 

Marui doesn’t give a damn if anyone in the class pays attention or not—if they fail, that’s their own fault for slacking off. If they get caught listening to music, that’s another story. If one idiot gets caught, the teacher will catch on and then where will they be? Marui needs his music some days and this new guy isn’t going to take that from him, even if he’s attractive.

“Hey, go up the back next time,” Marui says. Niou furrows his thin white eyebrows together and pulls out a single headphone. “Don’t get us all in trouble,” he adds, taping his ear for clarification. 

Niou puts his headphone back in and returns to staring at the front of the room. 

“Bastard,” Marui says.

“Asshole,” Niou replies.

Marui stares wide-eyed at the new guy. He’s too stunned to reply for a moment, but quickly comes back with, “Cocksucker.”

“Yup.”

What the fuck?

“Marui-kun!” the teacher snaps. “Stop talking. And I thought I told you to swallow that gum.”

Marui can see Niou’s thin lips move at the corner. Is he smirking?

Niou continues to stare forward as if Marui is beneath him. Whatever. The new guy’s a rude, albeit hot, freak. Marui’s dealt with plenty of those before. 

Marui puts his phone on the desk between his textbook and his stomach. He skips past the texts from Ren and goes to the one’s from his bandmates. Marui isn’t one to brag unless it will benefit him, but he’s the lead singer of a popular band in the underground music scene. 

The band is called Zero to Hero and has five members, plus a guy who helps them with lights and sound for their shows. They play at parties and clubs that most people don’t know exist, and they already have one album out. The album was self produced and they only sold a few hundred over the past two years, but it was something. Their songs aren’t played on the radio legally, but Marui hears them at least once a week on the pirate station he listens to.

Marui frowns at his phone and the shit storm Urayama sent him. 

 _slammed my finger in the door this morning. ill let u no if i can make practice_ _(￣^￣)ゞ_

_its purple now omg its purple （；￣д￣）_

_so i jammed my finger and cant play until its not purple  
please dont kill me (一。一;;）_

Marui rolls his eyes and types a response. 

_It’s fine just get better! And stop with the damn emots they’re annoying._

Urayama is quick to respond: _thank u thank u thank u (づ￣ ³￣)づ_

Is he being thanked for not killing someone? He sighs and begins running through which of their songs require a keyboard or a second guitar. There’s a lot, but not enough to cancel practice. 

It sucks to have any band member out of commission for any amount of time right now because they’re working on their second album. They can’t play through new songs without the full band.

He pulls up Oyama’s number and sends him a message.

_Is your acoustic at my place? Tell Urayama he can still come and listen if he wants._

He receives a response several minutes later: _it is and okay._

He checks the rest of his texts—Jackal asked if he got a text from Urayama and Kato asked if they still have practice if Urayama loses his finger. He tells Jackal they’ll do acoustic during practice today and Kato to shut up. He receives an _okay_ from Jackal and nothing from Kato.

He scrolls back through to the texts from Ren. She sent a very explicit text about how she was going to murder her volleyball captain for the hell that was her morning practice, then another complaining about how boring class is.

Marui loves everything about girls. He loves girls who have curves and extra weight and a confidence about them, girls who know they’re sexy despite their size. He loves girls who are gentle and kind, who are soft and warm under his hands. And he loves girls like Ren, who are thin with muscles and don’t curve in all the places some girls does, girls who know what they like and aren’t afraid to get it. He loves everything about every girl and some may call him a liar, but it’s true. 

He also loves everything about boys, but he can’t exactly be as open about those feelings. 

He opens up Ren’s text and responds. 

_Sucks that you're bored. Play a game on your phone?_

_Battery’s almost dead_

_Wanna get lunch on the roof today?_

_Sure_

Marui tunes in and out of lecture, occasionally jotting down a note about integration factors or partial solutions. He scribbles lyrics in the margins of his history notes and tapes out the tune to a song on pencils during English. Out of curiosity, he periodically looks over at Niou, who continues to stare at the lecturer with a distant, bored expression.

When the lunch bell goes off, Marui grabs his bag with his lunch and heads out of the room. He jogs up the stairs, taking them three at a time, and exits through the NO EXIT door at the top of the stairs. Ren is in the classroom above his and is already there.

Ren presses her hands to his chest and presses a kiss to his cheek. She takes his hand and leads him to the edge of the roof where she sits, back to the fence. He lies down and rests his head on her thighs like pillows.

“You look pretty today,” he says. 

“You always say that,” she says.

“But you always look pretty.”

The only proper way to describe Marui’s relationship with Ren is blunt and crass: they’re fuck buddies. 

Ren eats her store bought lunch and feeds Marui the leftovers he brought from home. She swipes grains of rice off his cheeks with her thumb and laughs when he gets a piece of seaweed stuck between his teeth. 

“So, what’s on your mind?” she asks when they’re finished eating. “You don’t call me for lunch unless something’s up.”

“There’s this new kid and he’s a hot jackass,” Marui says. He tells her his short conversation with Niou and she listens attentively, nodding and humming in all the right places. “Who the fuck transfers schools halfway through the first semester anyways?” Marui grumbles when he finishes.

Ren runs her hands through his hair, fluffing it and petting gently. “You’re so cute when you’re frustrated,” she says, laughing softly at him. 

Marui pouts and she laughs louder, then leans down to kiss him. Her lips are full and slick with cheap cherry lipgloss that’s sweet on his tongue. He sighs and runs a hand up her back, rubbing over the clasps of her pretty pink bra that he can see through her blouse. She nips at his bottom lip and pulls away, smacking his hand away.

“Not at school,” Ren chastises. She returns to petting through his hair and he closes his eyes. “My parents aren’t home today; they have a dinner date. We can’t have sex because I’m on my period, but we can cuddle and watch movies while we make out.”

“I can hang out after band practice,” he says. “I’ll call you.”

 

 

 .

The only thing that Marui pushes through the rest of the day is the thought of band practice and cuddling with Ren. The bell rings and Marui quickly gathers his things to meet up with the rest of the band. His phone begins to play the chorus to one of their songs when he’s halfway down the stairs.

“Hey, Kato, what’s up?” Marui answers.

“I can’t make practice,” Kato says. She sounds furious, more so than she usually does after school. “And before you try and rip me a new one for not texting you guys earlier, you should know our school now makes us put our phones in a container before class to ‘create a better learning environment.’ It’s _bullshit_.”

“That explains why you didn’t text me back. Ignore all my texts calling you a bitch for not answering me.”

“You called me a bitch? You dick.”

Kato is the band’s drummer and sole female member. She used to go to Rikkaidai High with them, but after her mom caught her smoking a cigarette last year, she’s been forced into an all girls’ school, which, according to Kato, is worse than the ninth circle of hell. 

“Why can’t you make practice?” Marui asks. 

“I got detention. Apparently correcting the teacher because they’re a dumb ass is ‘disrespectful.’ He said we came from _monkeys_. This place is killing me.”

“Well shit. Urayama can’t play until his finger isn’t purple or something because he fucked it up bad this morning. We were going to try to do acoustic, but I’d prefer to have drums in case.”

“Don’t blame me.”

“I don’t. And I see the others,” Marui says. “I’ll tell them you can’t make it today. Go to detention before you get in more trouble.”

Marui can picture her rolling her eyes and slamming her phone shut. She refuses to buy a smart phone because she likes slamming her phone dramatically. 

Marui walks up to Jackal, Oyama and Urayama, who has his left middle finger in a cheap finger splint. Oyama has gummy worms hanging out of his mouth and his hand in the bag to get more the second he finishes the ones in his mouth. 

Oyama Kenta may have long dark hair, a ton of crazy piercings in his ears, and could tower over the tallest guy on the basketball team, but he doesn’t look it. He doesn’t hold himself the way you would expected him to. He keeps his arms to himself and his back subtly hunched to make himself appear shorter. He doesn’t hold himself like he’s bigger or better or stronger than anyone unless he needs to. 

Marui likes to think of Oyama as a freakishly large puppy.

“I am so sorry about my finger,” Urayama says. “Kenta and I were leaving his apartment and his cat tried to run by and I panicked and—”

“Breathe, Urayama, breathe,” Jackal says. “It’s fine. We’re just glad you didn’t break anything.”

“Yeah,” Marui says. “We’re not recording for awhile and I want to look over some lines again. Plus this gives us an excuse to work on some acoustic versions for the album. Kato can’t come either.”

“What? Why?” Jackal asks. “She didn’t text me. Oh, never mind, she just did.”

“Her school has some new BS policy about phones,” Marui says. “And she has detention so we can’t do much besides acoustic.”

“We can go through those songs you wrote a few months ago and decide if we’re going to play any,” Jackal says.

“I want to change some things in the music for the new song,” Oyama says. 

“I’ll do anything to help as long as I don’t have to write my English paper,” Urayama says with a happy smile.

 

 

 .

Even though the bell rang, Yukimura patiently waits until the teacher is done talking to pack his things. He carefully puts his bag over his shoulder and digs into his pocket for his phone so he can text Yanagi.

_Where are you?_

_Student council room with Yagyuu and Genichirou._

He walks against the flow of hall traffic; everyone is leaving but club members and students with detention. A few acquaintances wave and say their variation of _good-bye_. Kirihara blazes past, carrying his skateboard at his side, and gives a two-fingered, improper salute. Yukimura tells him not to run in the hall.

He cuts down the corner stairwell and into the student council room on the first floor before going to the art studio. Yagyuu is writing a schedule on the blackboard while Yanagi sits on the desk and watches, occasionally adding his input. Sanada is standing idly next to the desk.

“I thought you had practice,” Yukimura says to Sanada. 

“I canceled,” Sanada says. “Half the team has the flu from running in the rain a few days ago.”

Yukimura sits on the desk next to Yanagi and looks at the board. “Is this the list of winter fundraisers?”

“Yes; I’m writing it in advance for tomorrow morning's meeting. Is there something you need?” Yagyuu asks. “We don’t have a meeting today.”

Yagyuu is the student council president and Yukimura and Yanagi are class representatives. They don’t do anything except organized fundraisers to collect money for the school, but the positions look good on university applications. 

Half the things they do are for university, like Yanagi joining the chess club and Sanada running the kendo club.  Yukimura is a member of the art club for fun, but the fact that it looks good certainly isn’t hurting anyone. 

“I don’t need anything,” Yukimura says. “But I do want to talk about our new classmate. You showed him around this morning, didn’t you, Yagyuu?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I heard an interesting rumor about him during lunch.”

“Do tell,” Yanagi says.

“You’re all gossip whores,” Sanada grumbles.

“Some girls who have friends at his old school said he was expelled for being gay. No one knows the details since the administration kept it very quiet, but that is the final consensus.”

“And why are you telling me this?” Yagyuu asks with a heavy sigh. 

Yukimura smiles slyly. “No reason in particular.”

The door to the room slams open and the four turn to see what’s the matter. The vice-president Nishimura is holding Kirihara, who has a giant red mark on the side of his head and a nervous smile, by the collar of his shirt. Nishimura drags Kirihara into the room, kicks the door shut behind him, and makes a noise similar to a growl.

“Akaya, what did you do?” Yukimura asks.

“He decided slide down the railing on his skateboard—”

“I was grinding,” Kirihara grumbles like a child.

“ _Fine_ ,” Nishimura says irritably. He looks ready to kill. “He was grinding down the railing of the main staircase, got his skateboard caught on someone’s bag, and went flying halfway across the lobby. How many times have we told you that you can have your stupid skateboard in school as long as you don’t ride it inside!”

“Seventy six,” Yanagi says.

“It was rhetorical,” Nishimura says. 

He lets go of Kirihara’s collar and Kirihara goes forward to Yukimura in search of some form of protection. 

When Kirihara’s older sister babysat Yukimura, she brought Akaya along and the two boys became quite close over the years. In times of trouble, Kirihara uses Yukimura as his shield. It usually works since Yukimura is one of the most popular, most influential students in the school. 

But against Nishimura and Yagyuu, Kirihara has a fifty-fifty chance of it blowing up in his face. 

“I was in a hurry and wasn’t thinking,” Kirihara says. “Hiyoshi and Zaizen can’t hang out for that long today and I wanted to get there as quick as possible. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry if you’re not sorry,” Sanada says.

“Sorry,” Kirihara says and Yukimura smiles.

“Kirihara-kun, I can’t keep covering for you because you’re Yukimura’s friend,” Yagyuu says. “You have detention tomorrow. You’re lucky it’s not more.”

“Very lucky,” Nishimura hisses.

Kirihara groans then rubs where his head hit the floor. At least he didn’t eat asphalt this time. 

 

 

 .

For Niou, days pass in a blur of smoke and strange flavored pocky, which he steals from the red head’s bag when he isn’t looking. He threads his headphones up the back of his uniform at the red head’s passive aggressive request and finds that it does make them less noticeable. He steals an extra pack of pocky the day he realizes this, but the red head never notices. 

He tilts to the back two legs of his chair when he finishes his math exam and waits for someone else to finish. If he turned in his exam now, his teacher would make him do more work and he really isn’t up for that. Instead, he stares at his test and tries to make it look like he’s working. 

 _Finally_ , he thinks when a girl stands up to hand in her test. The teacher says something and the girl returns to her desk and pulls out her textbook. 

Niou gets out of his seat and puts his test on the front desk. “Can I go to the bathroom?” he asks. 

The teacher looks confused for a moment and flips through Niou’s work to check if he did it all. Niou is tempted to say he’s not a complete idiot at math like half the kids in the class, but he holds his tongue.

“Sure, Niou-kun. Take the pass.”

Niou takes the wooden pass from the door, notices the red head staring at him as he goes, and makes his way to the boys’ room at the end of the hall. He curls his tongue and misses the press of his metal piercing. 

During his first day, the student council president told him he had to take out all of his piercings until the school day was over. Niou keeps his hip piercings in since no one can see them and they’re a bitch to take out, but he feels naked without all of his metal.

He enters the bathroom, checks the stalls and, once he realizes he is alone, locks the door behind him. He sits on the windowsill, and pulls his cheap disposable lighter and a hand rolled joint out of his pocket. He already scoped the school for security cameras and there’s a blind spot at this window, so he doesn’t have to worry about being caught. 

The first burn of familiar smoke in his lungs calms him immediately. 

He cracks the window and takes his time. He’s still new enough to the school to use the “I got lost” excuse. His teacher already thinks he’s a dumb ass delinquent so it won’t be a big shock if he comes back a few minutes later than he should. Besides, he needs to make this last the rest of the day or he’ll be hyperventilating into a bag.

 _Why the hell are classes at this school so damn big anyways?_ he wonders as he puts the joint back to his lips. He inhales deeply and holds it for several seconds before exhaling out the window.

The door knob rattles as someone tries to come in.

“Yeah, yeah, just a sec,” Niou calls. He stamps out the joint on the bottom of his shoe and shoves it into his pocket. 

When he gets up to let the poor kid in to piss, the door opens. The student council president holds up a key—Niou makes a note to make a copy of it when he gets the chance—and eyes Niou.

“Niou-kun,” he says. He wrinkles his nose and adjusts his glasses. “Why did you look the door? Were you smoking?”

“Me? Never.” Niou puts on an innocent mask and the president sighs. He pushes against Niou’s chest with a single hand, causing Niou to take a few steps back into the bathroom, and locks the door behind him.

“Cigarettes or marijuana?” 

Niou raises an eyebrow at the serious tone. If this guy is expecting him to answer that honestly, he’s an idiot. But regardless of his innate ability to lie through his teeth, Niou figures he could use some collateral in a situation like this.

“Does it make a difference?” Niou asks. He reaches out, slipping two fingers into the guy’s pocket while keeping his thumb tucked and out of the way. He takes his wallet first and quickly reaches back for his phone, putting both items into his back pocket. He does this as he speaks, keeping eye contact, “Or are you looking to get high, Mr. Goody-two-shoes?”

“Answer the question.”

“Cigarettes.”

“I heard a rumor about you, Niou-kun.”

“And what would that rumor be?”

“That you were kicked out of your old school for being gay.”

“And?”

“Is that true?”

“I suppose that in a way, I was kicked out for being gay.” Niou grins mischievously. He’s too high to think this through and it’s just too much fun messing with guys like him. He says, “I was sucking a guy’s dick in the bathroom during forth period. Apparently it was good because he was so loud that we got caught.”

The president shifts his weight between his feet. Niou cocks his head and tries to gauge the reaction he just got. Most people would freak if he told them that, especially if they’re male and egotistical enough to think he wants in their pants. Others would laugh off his serious, blunt admission as a joke. But this guy hasn’t done either.

Interesting. 

“I have a proposition for you,” the guy says suddenly. “I’m in the closet and have been looking for a partner to experiment with. I won’t force you into anything and this is by no means blackmail. Just think it over.”

“Okay,” Niou says.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, okay. We can dick around. I have rules, though. I don’t do anal in any form. So no fingering, no rimming, and no penetration for either of us. You always wear a condom for blowjobs and use lube for handjobs.”

“If that’s all, then—”

“No dates and no intervening with the other’s personal life,” Niou goes on. The president looks at him like he’s trying to remember all of it, but is all accepting all of it too. “You can ask me anything about my previous sexual encounters, but I won’t tell you names. And you’ll need to get tested before we do anything.”

The president waits a moment before saying, “Is that all?”

Niou resists the urge to smile because this guy is only the second person to say that to him. The rest call him fucking crazy or a whore, neither of which is entirely inaccurate.

“One more: if either of us develops feelings, it’s over,” Niou says. “That’s all.”

“Okay. I guess we should exchange numbers and—” Niou takes the president’s phone out of his own back pocket, opening it to add his number to his contacts. The guy points and asks, “When did you take my phone?”

“When you asked me whether I was smoking pot or cigarettes. I thought you would bust me so I picked your pocket.” 

“And what would you have done with it?” the president asks curiously. “Also, the next time you answer that question, make sure you don’t smell like marijuana.”

“Not sure. You knew?”

“You knew exactly what you would do, didn’t you? And of course I knew. I’m not an idiot, Niou-kun.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” Niou smirks and hands the president his phone and wallet. He slides his hands into his pocket, fiddles with the lighter there, and passes him as he heads for the door. Niou pauses and turns back around to ask, “What’s your name again?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jackal is sitting in the courtyard with Oyama and Urayama before school starts when a pair of small, familiar breasts press up against his back.  Two tiny arms wrap around his neck and soft hands that smell of lavender cover his eyes. A teasing voice sings into his ear, “Guess who.”

“Marui,” Jackal says. “No. Yukimura?”

“Guess again.” Jackal hums and pretends to struggle with his next guess. The girl presses in closer, the heat of her chest radiating through their school uniforms. “Or do you need another hint?” she asks.

“Sanada.”

She moves in impossibly closer, whispering into his ear, “Does Sanada wear pretty panties?”

“Aiko,” he says. “And I really hope he doesn’t because that image is mentally scarring.” 

The hands come off his eyes and a pair of lips press against his cheek. He turns his head to the side and catches her lips in a chaste kiss. Aiko smiles, her lips going up and showing her teeth. Jackal stares at the familiar specks of color in her hazel eyes, smells her lavender hand lotion that she uses every morning, smiles at her smile.

“Good morning,” he says. She stays seated behind him but shifts her arms so they circle his torso. He covers her hands with his, which are so large they encase hers completely. 

“Good morning, babe,” she says. “And good morning to you, Oyama.”

“Hey, I’m here too,” Urayama says, pouting. 

“You too, Urayama. How’s the finger?”

“All healed up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Aiko presses gentle kisses to Jackal’s neck. Her curly hair tickles and the butterfly brushes of her lips aren’t helping; Jackal laughs. She soon stops and rests her chin on his shoulder.

“So I was on the train with Marui this morning and he was swearing to the moon and back that the new kid is stealing his snacks,” Aiko says. “I didn’t even know there wasa new kid.”

“He came here a few weeks ago. His name’s Niou,” Jackal says. “He got kicked out of his last school or something. Yukimura’s made it his mission to be his friend even though they haven’t met.”

“Why?” Urayama asks.

“Because he’s Yukimura,” Jackal says.

“So why does Marui think Niou’s stealing his snacks?” Aiko asks.

Jackal sighs. He has known Marui for almost the entirety of his life and he is hard pressed to find a memory of Marui that does not involve him over reacting or being a drama queen. 

“I doubt he is. But let’s just say that Niou is... interesting,” Jackal says.

“Interesting?” Aiko says.

“ _Interesting_.”

 

.

“Watch the teeth,” Niou says.

“Sorry,” Yagyuu murmurs. 

Yagyuu presses his weight against Niou, hands gripping the edge of the large desk at the front of the student council room so hard that his knuckles go white. Niou loops his arms around Yagyuu’s shoulders and slows the pace, languidly moving his tongue and opening his mouth further. He rubs up and down Yagyuu’s back, feeling the stiff tension in his muscles. 

“Relax, guys don’t bite,” Niou says. “Unless you’re into that and he’s willing to.”

“You use your tongue a lot,” Yagyuu says.

“If you let me keep my piercing in, you’d see why.” Niou smiles lazily, threads his fingers into Yagyuu’s hair to mess it up because he knows that makes Yagyuu agitated, and nips at his jaw. “Less talking; more kissing.”

Yagyuu pushes their lips back together and slides a hand slowly up the side of Niou’s thigh. Yagyuu radiates heat like a cat and leaves traces of it everywhere he touches. His cologne is musky and strongest in the morning, like now, when he’s still clean shaven and his glasses are free of dirt, and in the ten minutes after gym and before fifth period when they meet in the third floor boys’ bathroom to make out. 

Niou puts a leg on Yagyuu’s hip and presses their groins together. Yagyuu has a one track mind when he kisses and while that may be okay with inexperienced girls, that won’t cut it with him. 

Niou manages to work a rhythm of friction between them that has Yagyuu making breathy noises of pleasure as they kiss. Niou teases Yagyuu’s tongue into his mouth.

Yagyuu’s hand slides between Niou’s legs, his long fingers searching and groping for Niou’s dick. As much as Niou would love to rub one out with Yagyuu in the student council room, he knows Yagyuu isn’t up for that. 

Niou reaches down and grabs hold of his wrist. 

“Don’t be a fucking tease. You grab my dick and we’re not going to class, and we both know you’re too good to miss class,” Niou says. 

They haven’t done anything more than kiss. Using their tongues just happened last week and they haven’t touched under clothes. That’s a big jump to going beneath the belt and Niou suspects that Yagyuu isn’t fully aware of what he’d be getting himself into.

“I am not a tease. Even if I was, is that wrong?”

Niou rubs his thumbs into Yagyuu’s palm, then brings his hand up to his mouth and obscenely takes his middle finger into his mouth. He curls his tongue, longing for the press of familiar metal, which sits in a ziplock bag next to his math textbook. He bobs his head for several seconds, then lets go of Yagyuu’s finger with purposeful, obscene _pop_. 

“Being teased isn’t fun,” Niou says, leaning close to Yagyuu’s mouth. “Unless you follow through.”

“Maybe we should stop, then,” Yagyuu says, cheeks flushed red.

“Agreed.” Niou lies down on the large desk and arches his back until it cracks. Making out on a desk is hot, but it’s a bitch on the back. “Just give me a minute.”

Yagyuu adjusts his classes and clears his throat. Niou frowns and since Yagyuu is an obvious person and easy to read, he follows Yagyuu’s line of sight to his exposed midriff where thin hair runs down into his pants. Niou puts his hands on the hem of his flimsy uniform shirt and curls it up just an inch.

“Do you want to look?” Niou asks. 

“If you don’t mind,” Yagyuu says softly.

Niou smirks because it’s been a long time since someone just wanted to _look_ at him and something about that makes him want to comply, maybe a little too eagerly. 

He hikes his shirt up until it’s bunched at his underarms and curves his body up to show his muscles and the exposed bones of his ribs and hips. Yagyuu looks like a deer in headlights.

“You can touch anywhere,” Niou says, settling back down. He’s shameless so he spreads his legs and lightly touches his chest, thumbing over his right nipple. 

Yagyuu steps into Niou’s spread legs and puts his hands on the curve in Niou’s waist below his ribs, one large warm hand on each side. Niou tingles with heat when skin meets skin.

“You can move your hands, you know.”

It amuses Niou that Yagyuu has the face of a child about to do something very, very wrong. 

Yagyuu roams over Niou’s torso, over skin stretched thin like he’s all bone in some places and over warm, lean muscles at others. He rubs at the four symmetrical knobs jutting out of his hips, two on each side, then lingers over Niou’s erect nipples and returns to them several times.

“If you like tits, you might want to try girls,” Niou says when Yagyuu brushes them for the forth time. “Or drag queens. I know a great bar. You just need a fake ID.”

“I’ve heard that some men like having their nipples played with and I was trying to see if that was true,” Yagyuu says. 

“Depends on the guy,” Niou says. “For me, they feel good, but playing with them won’t make me hard.”

“How many people have you slept with?” Yagyuu asks bluntly.

“Depends on how you define sex. If you mean penetrative, then one. Anal things in general, two. Oral, four. Mutual orgasm, three.” Niou sits up suddenly and grabs at Yagyuu’s hips. He searches Yagyuu’s face for a reaction that he can’t find. “What? You’re not going to call me a slut?” 

“I asked you to fool around with me,” Yagyuu says. “I have no room to talk.”

“Fair point.” Niou gives Yagyuu a long, lingering kiss before patting his ass. “Okay, back up so I can stand. I wanna go smoke.”

“Marijuana?”

“Yeah, _pot_ ,” Niou says because Yagyuu had the balls to ask about being fuck buddies, but can’t say slang twelve year olds know. He jumps off the desk and grabs his bag as Yagyuu watches him. “Why?” Niou asks.

“Do you have enough for two?”

Niou tilts his head and stares. Mr. Student Council President, gay in the closet, trimmed and perfected down to his manicured nails, wants to smoke pot. 

“I’ve always wondered what the hype was about,” Yagyuu explains and he doesn’t sound embarrassed. 

“I’ll come here after school’s done.”

“Here?” Yagyuu asks.

“We’re not going to my house and I doubt your parents would like it if you brought someone like me home to smoke. Doing it in public is stupid for any number of reasons. At least I know where the cameras are here. So it’s here or not at all.”

Yagyuu adjusts his glasses. “Alright.”

Niou shoves his hands into his pockets and leaves, stopping by the bathroom to run his headphones up the back of his shirt before going to class. He puts on Zero to Hero and zones out when the teacher comes in. Throughout the day, he manages to get a pack of poky, a juice carton, and some chocolate cake from the red head’s bag when he isn’t looking. Who the hell has cake in their bag? Not that he’s complaining. 

The teacher asks if he’s paying attention and when Niou can perfectly recall what they were discussing, the teacher gets red in the face and turns around to continue the lecture. The red head watches him for awhile after that, blowing a few bubbles when the teacher’s back is to them. 

It’s not a trick he learned to stay out of trouble. It’s natural. If Niou sees what’s written on the board, he’ll remember it. His mother used to say he was a genius. Niou’s never put a label on his intelligence, but if he had to, it would be genius. 

The only interesting thing to happen happens is during lunch. A girl comes in and gets the red head. Niou doesn’t look at girls sexually, but she’s attractive enough. Her hips curve and her thighs are plump with muscle. Her stomach isn’t flat but her breasts are larger, and it’s probably the makeup on her face making her unusually appealing.

When they leave together, the red head’s arm wrapped around her waist, everyone begins to whisper. Niou can’t hear what they say over his music, but he recognizes the look well enough. It’s the same look he gets from self absorbed, self righteous assholes.

 _So the red head is a slut_ , Niou thinks. 

At the end of the day, Niou grabs his bag and heads downstairs. He stops in the bathroom and puts in his earrings, filling the holes in his left and right ears with various pieces of metal, wood and plastic of different gauges and styles. He puts his ball back into his tongue, thinking of how much he’s going to screw with Yagyuu now, then the vertical stud in his right eyebrow. 

He’s walking out of the bathroom when he bumps into someone. He fixes them a blank look that makes most people recoil in horror, especially with the piercings. This guy smiles like rays of sunshine are coming out of his ass.

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” the guy says. Niou looks the guy up and down and decides that he would make a killer drag queen. Stick him in heels and a corset and he could take a stage—or a pole, if he’s strong enough.

“It‘s fine,” Niou says.

“Are you Niou, by chance? I’m Yukimura Seiichi. Yagyuu mentioned you.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing bad. Just that you were the new student,” Yukimura says. “I’m actually having a party next week. My friend’s band will be playing. You should come.”

“I’m not a party person.”

“There’s alcohol.”

“I don’t drink.”

_I just smoke._

“Well, you should still come. I’ll be fun,” Yukimura says. “Listen, I need to run. I’ll give you my number and address the next time we run into each other. Or I’ll just tell Yagyuu to give it to you.”

Yukimura waves good-bye, still wearing that damnable smile, and walks away. 

 _I need to smoke right fucking now,_ Niou thinks. It’s not that people like Yukimura piss him off, it’s that they make him anxious. There are very few people who he can’t get a proper read on and he doesn’t like it when he meets one of them. 

Yagyuu isn’t there when he arrives so he hops up onto the large desk at the front, flicking his cheap lighter on and off, and nodding his head to his music. 

Niou is beginning to debate whether Yagyuu is going to show or not when the door opens and he walks in.

“About time,” Niou says. “I thought you were going to pussy out.”

“I had to take care of some things with the vice-president and—”

“I don’t care. Lock the door.” Yagyuu does as he’s told, then goes to open the windows. “Don’t,” Niou says. “We’re on the first floor and sports teams sometimes run around the school. We’ll air out the room after we’re done.”

Yagyuu returns to stand in front of Niou, who spreads his legs and invites Yagyuu closer. 

“So how—?” Yagyuu questions.

“Just watch.” 

Niou holds one end of the joint between his lips and burns the end, breathing in and breathing out smoke. 

He wraps his fingers into the hair at the back of Yagyuu’s neck and leans forward, the joint hanging precariously from his lips. Yagyuu is watching him like a hawk. It’s kind of cute how docile Yagyuu can be at times like this.

Niou has been smoking long enough to talk clearly with a joint in his mouth and says, “Put it in your mouth and suck.”

“It’s lit,” Yagyuu says.

“Just do it,” Niou says. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“That’s probably the right choice.” Niou smirks around the joint, then suddenly becomes serious. “I don’t make anyone do anything and I won’t start by making you do this.”

“I know. I want to. Bu let me do it by myself first.”

Niou takes another deep breath in and passes the joint to Yagyuu. The smoke seems to roll out of Niou’s mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It settles between them, reeking and burning Yagyuu’s nostrils. 

“What do I do?” Yagyuu asks.

“Put it between your lips and inhale.”

The joint is smoother than Yagyuu expected and not nearly as heavy as it looks. It tastes strange on his lips when he finally puts it into his mouth.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling smoke into his lungs, and tries to hold it but ends up coughing into his hand and choking for air. His mouth seems to fill thick cottony spit, or maybe that’s the smell making him feel that.

“Don’t take in so much,” Niou says, taking the joint from Yagyuu and putting it into his mouth. His thumb rubs gentle, reassuring circles into Yagyuu’s neck. “Take the tip in your mouth and suck.”

Yagyuu complies this time, leaning forward as slouches forward to meet him. He stares into Niou’s eyes and Niou stares back, his blue eyes softer than usual, comforting almost, like they had been the first time they kissed. 

He sucks in the smoke as Niou blows until his lungs are full and this time he isn’t choking and he can feel it all over his body and he’s pulling back to blow smoke into Niou’s face.

Niou keeps one hand on the back of Yagyuu’s head and uses the other to move the joint in and out of his mouth. He drags his lips against Yagyuu’s when he moves the joint, then smirks when he puts it back to his lips. Yagyuu rubs up and down Niou’s boney sides as his mind succumbs to the high.

Niou breaths in a lungful of smoke, then takes the joint out of his mouth and presses his open mouth to Yagyuu’s, letting Yagyuu suck the smoke out of his mouth. Niou smiles and keeps his lips on Yagyuu’s, kissing him, not letting him breath, forcing the smoke and lack of air to cloud his mind until it feels like TV static.

They part for seconds then Yagyuu is kissing him again, rough and hard, like he’s trying to devour Niou’s lips. Niou tugs gently on Yagyuu’s hair, pulling him back, calming him down. Yagyuu’s hands are all over his body, inching up the back of his shirt, crawling towards his groin, rubbing and palming at his nipples.

When Yagyuu doesn’t let up, Niou tugs on his hair a little too hard, yanking his head back and sucking hard under his jaw. Niou’s careful not to leave a mark.

“There’s no rush,” Niou says, taking another drag and blowing the smoke up into the air in a series of rings. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

 

.

It’s Kirihara’s idea to get Yukimura to do the art for Zero to Hero’s second album. Kirihara’s with Urayama and Oyama at the time and the idea runs through the band like it’s a line from a game of telephone. Jackal hears that Yukimura has already agreed to do the art, Kato hears that Yukimura has completed the art, and Marui hears that Yukimura won’t do it. 

Marui doesn’t know how the hell that happened, but it needs to be cleared up because at this point, no one knows what’s going on. No one is even sure if Yukimura has heard about the idea.

After Kirihara has blazed past on his skateboard and nearly everyone has left the school for the day, Marui, Jackal, Urayama and Oyama wander the halls. They have to wait for Kato to show up so they can go talk to Yukimura in the art studio. Having one of their band members attend another school can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially when they all insist on doing band-related business together or not at all.

“I want to go into all the bathrooms and write ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ everywhere,” Marui says as they walk through the first floor. 

“Then do it,” Jackal says.

“But it sounds boring now that I’ve said it out loud,” Marui says. He blows a large bubble and looks around, thinking of things to do until Kato shows up. 

“We could go find a snack machine and get juice,” Urayama says. Marui gives him a strange look and he shrugs innocently. “I just really want juice.”

“I can break into the machine on the second floor so you don’t need to use money,” Marui says. Kirihara taught him last year during detention. 

“I can help,” Jackal says. 

They go up to the second floor and pull the drink machine near the stairway away from the wall. With a bit of force and a pair of scissors they stole from the teacher’s lounge down the hall, they pry open the loose back hatch and reach inside to get their prizes. 

“Yay! Juice,” Urayama says. He takes a sip and begins to sing, “ _Wanta Fanta? Don’t you wanta, wanta Fanta_?”

“You are _not_ getting that stuck in my head again,” Oyama grumbles.

Jackal pushes the machine back into place so no one knows. Marui wrinkles his nose at the smell of smoke and checks the machine.

“What’s wrong?” Oyama asks.

“Don’t you smell that?” Marui asks. “Jackal, did you fuck up the machine when you busted it open?”

“No way,” Jackal says. “I did exactly what Kirihara does.”

“I smell it too,” Urayama says. “Smells like smoke.”

The band follows the smell to the stairway and back down to the first floor. They in front of the student council room and Marui rattles the locked doorknob. He recognizes the distinctive smell of pot smoke. 

“I think Yagyuu’s getting high,” Marui says. “Or Nishimura.”

“What? No way,” Jackal says. 

“It’s coming from in there,” Urayama says.

“Shiita’s right,” Oyama says. “And it smells like pot.”

Marui wants to ask how Oyama knows what pot smells like, but doesn’t because now Jackal is trying to open the door and Marui can hear fumbling on the other side. Over Yagyuu’s swearing and questions, muffled by the door and addressed to someone else in the room, Marui hear’s a deep, sultry laugh that goes straight to his groin.

As a singer, he appreciates voices and that voice belongs to a god.

“Just a moment,” Yagyuu says. 

“What the fuck,” Jackal says, looking at his bandmates. 

The door opens and Yagyuu stands in the doorway, his hair disheveled from its usual perfection. The cheap fluorescent lights on the ceiling shine through lingering smoke. Sitting on the large desk at the front of the room is Niou, leaning back on his hands, head titled to look at them. 

“Do you need something?” Yagyuu asks.

“We can smell the smoke from upstairs,” Jackal says. “It’s going up the stairwell.”

“Opps,” Niou says, laughing. _Fuck me_ , Marui thinks after hearing that godlike voice come out of Niou’s mouth. “My bad.”

“This is not funny,” Yagyuu says, but he’s smiling and no one is taking him seriously right now because he is high as fuck. 

“Guys!” Kato shouts from down the hall. 

“This keeps getting better and better,” Jackal says, trying very hard not to laugh.

Kato runs up to them and says, “I texted you that I got here. What the fuck are you doing at the student council room with Glasses?”

“Wait for it,” Marui says.

“Why the hell does it smell like pot?” Kato asks. She smells the smoke and looks closely at Yagyuu, at his pupils, at the lack of tension in his shoulders. “Holy fuck balls,” Kato says, laughing. “Glasses got _baked_.”

“My name is Yagyuu. It’s not Glasses.”

“No, you’re right. Glasses isn’t your name anymore. It’s Stoner Glasses.” Kato smiles broadly and pats Yagyuu on the back with enough force to knock him off balance. “Good for you, Stoner Glasses. You needed to get that stick out of your ass.”

“I don’t have a stick up my ass,” Yagyuu says.

“Yeah, you do,” Niou says.

Kato loses it and bends over laughing, curling in on herself. Her voice is low for a girl’s and is pleasant to listen to, even when she’s laughing so hard she snorts, like right now. She’s still wearing her new school’s uniform with the skirt hiked up scandalously high and the blouse undone one button too many. 

Kato always has to play the rebel.

“Oh boy. I needed that.” She wipes the tears from her eyes, smudging her makeup. She takes a better look at the scene and asks, “Are you the new kid with the weird ass hair?You’re cuter than what people have been telling me.”

 _I told you he was hot_ , Marui thinks. _And that was before I saw him with his piercings._

“Trust me, you’re not my type,” Niou says, which makes Yagyuu laugh.

“How come it doesn’t surprise me that you smoke pot?” Marui asks, looking at Niou. 

“Maybe it’s my charming smile and can-do attitude,” Niou replies sarcastically. 

Niou gets off the desk, grabbing his bag, then leans into Yagyuu’s ear to say something. Yagyuu nods and Niou walks off, shoving earbuds into his ears. When he walks past, Marui can hear the music blaring and he recognizes the chords he spent hours working on with Oyama, the drum beat Kato spent days practicing, the lyrics he scribbled on used napkins.

“Nice taste in music,” Marui says. 

Niou ignores him and keeps walking. 

“You should open the windows and leave before anyone comes by,” Oyama says. “We should get out of here too.”

“Yeah, where’s Girly?” Kato asks, meaning Yukimura. “I went to the art studio and he wasn’t there.”

“Did anyone tell Yukimura we needed to talk to him?” Jackal asks. 

“I thought Marui texted him,” Kato says.

“I thought Jackal was going to,” Marui says.

“I thought Urayama and Oyama talked to him,” Jackal says.

“We thought you guys talked to him,” Urayama says.

Marui sighs and blows a bubble. Sometimes he wonders if the band needs to get their shit together.


	3. Chapter 3

There is a small portion of the Rikkaidai student body which is inconceivably wealthy; Yukimura is part of that small portion. He is, as far as the other students are concerned, untouchable. His parents are part of the school board and even the teachers are afraid to punish him out of fear of being fired. And, for some reason that no one can figure out, the police have never shown up to his house during a party despite the overwhelming amount of people who attend and the volume of the music.

Yukimura tries not to take advantage of this, but he does from time to time. No one’s perfect all the time.

By the time Yanagi calls the band to come over and set up, the entire first floor of Yukimura’s house has been transformed with string lights, coolers of beer, and large bowls of stoner munchies. Their instruments and speakers sit in large black cases that Yanagi had moved from Marui’s house earlier that morning.

“There’s food in the kitchen for you guys,” Yukimura says when he lets them in. “The pizza is showing up at nine thirty. People will begin to show up at ten. No drinking until after you’ve played.”

“Damn, Girly, who do your parents keep killing?” Kato asks as Yukimura walks them through his house. “Did your kitchen get redone _again_?” 

“My parents don’t kill people,” Yukimura sighs. 

“Where are your parents anyways?” Jackal asks.

“On a business trip up north,” Yukimura says. “It’s also their twentieth anniversary. They’ve been gone the whole week and my sister is spending the weekend with a friend.”

Sanada and Yanagi are sitting in the large living room, cleared of all furniture except for a few chairs and sofas which are pressed up against the walls. The black boxes with their instruments are in the corner.

“Is everything here?” Oyama asks, going for his guitar case.

“Yes, I checked when it arrived,” Yanagi says. “Once you have your instruments set up, I want to connect the speakers to my laptop so I can play music.”

“That’s fine,” Marui says. “We’ll need duct tape to tape down the wires.”

“I’ll bring some down. And before you ask, I locked the doors and windows along that wall so no one can get behind your instruments and ruin anything,” Yukimura says. “Thanks again for playing tonight.”

“No problem,” Jackal says. “We love playing at your house. We don’t have to worry about the volume.”

Yukimura laughs softly and leaves with Sanada and Yanagi to finish setting up. When they finish, they all dick around until the party is supposed to start. They pester Kirihara, who isn’t coming because he’s grounded for leaving his skateboard in the hallway at home. The only other person from their usual group that isn’t there is Yagyuu, who sends Yukimura a text saying he’ll be there later with Niou.

 _Niou?_ Yukimura replies back, not mentioning Yagyuu’s text to his friends. 

_Yes. I talked to him and he agreed to come.  
Is that alright?_

_Of course!_

 

.

If there’s one thing Yukimura Seiichi knows how to do better than anyone else, it’s how to throw an overrated, cliché high school party. 

The house is packed. The music is obnoxious and loud, vibrating through their bodies and into their bones. Girls dance in clusters or grind against their boyfriends, and occasionally two people will sneak into an empty hallway or attempt to enter the bathroom at the same time without anyone noticing. Beers cans are passed like currency and red solo cups are held high in the air by overly sexual dancers. 

Yukimura circles the first floor with Sanada and Yanagi, offering drinks and playing host. He locks away car keys in the closet and makes sure that everyone who walks through the front door knows the rules of a Yukimura party: no one drives home, anyone can spend the night, and he will only unlock a bedroom if he knows both people entering are sober and consenting. 

Marui finds himself surrounded by people he doesn’t know and pressed up close to Ren, his hands just above the waist of her tight black skirt that rides up higher and higher with each jump and wiggle. He can see her red bra under her lacy top and feel the brush of her breasts against his chest as she moves. 

Ren dances with wild abandonment, singing along to the lyrics with a stupid smile, dancing with her entire body so that her hair moves with her. Her confidence is contagious and Marui finds himself matching her move for move. He has no idea what he’s doing and he feels like a fool. Ren laughs at him and presses closer as she sings in his face. 

Ren’s friends laugh at her enthusiasm and she retorts by grinding up against Marui, who doesn’t mind in the slightest. Her friends go quiet when they see how close Ren is to Marui and if looks could kill, Marui would be dead.

He knows a lot of Ren’s friends don’t approve of their relationship, but seeing them look at him like he’s the root of all evil makes it a little more obvious. It also makes him fear for his safety because girls are vicious when protecting their friends.

“Hey, maybe I should go find Jackal or something,” Marui says. “You came here with them and I don’t want to butt in.”

“I don’t see why their opinions bother you, but whatever. They’re planning on leaving around one,” Ren says. She presses closer, gets up on her toes and drags her lipstick coated lips against his. “Dance with me after.”

“Okay.”

He knows what he does with Ren isn’t exactly normal, even if it is consensual and kept private, and people can be cruel. He knows what people call her, call him, and tries to minimize that as much as possible for her sake.

He walks around the dancing crowd and into another room where the alcohol is, passing by Kato who is dancing with old friends she hasn’t seen in forever. Her jeans are ripped up and her tank top has massive holes under her arms that dip down to her waist and show her bra. A guy comes up to her and Marui recognizes her _fuck off_ face. He waits until the guy is gone, then keeps walking.

He changes rooms and finds Oyama and Urayama playing beer bong on a cleared off table. 

“Hey, Yukimura said no drinking,” Marui says. “Wait. Since when do you two drink?”

“I’m using mountain dew,” Urayama says.

“And I’m using pixie stixes,” Oyama says. 

Marui laughs at the idea, but takes over when Urayama needs to go to the bathroom and he has to admit that it’s better than regular beer pong. After a few rounds, he feels like he’s going to die of a sugar overdose but at the same time, he’s too hyped up to care. 

Urayama comes back from the bathroom, puts a hand on Marui’s shoulder, and he nearly jumps through the roof. 

“Can’t hold your sugar?” Urayama laughs.

“Apparently not,” Marui says. 

“By the way, I bumped into Yukimura-senpai and he wants us to play in half an hour. I don’t think Kato and Jackal know.”

Marui trades off places with Urayama so he can find the others. He travels between rooms until he finds Jackal with his girlfriend Aiko and a group of friends. He taps Jackal on the shoulder, tells him they’re on soon, then goes to find Kato, who isn’t with her old friends anymore.

He finally finds her redoing her makeup in one of the bathrooms on the second floor.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says when he walks in through the open door. “We’re on in ten minutes. Hat found me and told me.”

“Fuck. I just spent twenty minutes looking for you. I need to warm up.”

“Do it in here,” she says. “The acoustics are good in bathrooms, right?”

Marui isn’t sure how he expected the night to go, but he wasn’t planning on doing vocal exercises in Yukimura’s bathroom while Kato does her mascara. But it happens so he accepts it and rolls with it.

They go downstairs together, joining the rest of the band at their battle stations in front of the crowd—Urayama and Oyama with their guitars, Jackal at his bass, Kato at her drums, and Marui at the front with a mic.

Marui runs through lyrics in his head and stops himself from chewing on his cheek. He rechecks his microphone’s height and where the cords are on the floor, then moves aside for Yukimura. Yanagi pauses the music and the half-drunk crowd turns around to see what’s the matter. 

“Just wait a moment and we’ll have music again. The instruments sitting at the front of the room are finally going to go to use,” Yukimura says. “Please welcome the best band ever, and I mean that literally, Zero to Hero!”

Marui takes back his microphone and instead of talking, they go straight into a song. He’s never been good at introducing his band and why bother when their music can introduce them just as well as words?

Oyama, Urayama and Jackal start into one of their old songs, followed by the bass of Kato’s drums, then Marui comes in, his lips pressed closed to the microphone where his hands are wrapped tightly. He sings his entire body, every muscle in his face moving as he sings.

_“I took a step back as the room was filling up_   
_And I was packed against these people who were tossing up a strong vibe._   
_Now the door's locked_   
_And the shower's on_   
_And I realize I don't recognize anyone,_   
_But I don't mind.”_

For the first time that night, Marui sees him. Niou is standing against the back wall with Yagyuu and the two are leaning into each other as they talk. Niou looks at the stage, at Marui, even as he talks to Yagyuu. Marui stares back as he goes through the chorus and breaks into the next verse, dancing to the beat with his shoulders and hips.

_“Well now everybody's losing control!_   
_Intoxicated circulation..._   
_Just try and sit back, get my palette wet,_   
_Getting mentally prepared for the consequences_   
_And you know why..._   
_Because that knock at the door_   
_Calls the crowd to quiet._   
_The neighbors have complained damn near every night.”_

He keeps eye contact with Niou as Oyama and he slip into the chorus again, keeps it when he wants nothing more than to close his eyes with a long _whoa_ , keeps it when he smiles like an idiot as he sings. He only breaks it when the song ends and he needs to look at his bandmates to decide the next song. Even then, it takes a great deal of effort to look away from those eyes. 

Marui avoids looking at the back where Niou and Yagyuu linger because he’s a performer and he can’t spend the entire night staring down the new kid. He tugs at his t-shirt, clinging to his flushed skin and sweat, and pushes his hair out of his face. He talks and jokes between songs, controlling the mood and energy of crowd.

He loves the sting of sweat in his eyes. He loves the way people dance to his music, not caring how they look to anyone else. He loves the way he can see people like Yukimura singing along to the lyrics. He loves the burn in his thighs from jumping too much and the tightness in his hands from gripping the microphone. 

He’s on a high and he loves it.

They play through the songs on their old album that are upbeat, then two songs from the new album that they haven’t played in public before, and finish off with a series of covers and audience requests. For the requests, they make chords and rhythms on the fly and Marui sometimes stumbles over the lyrics, but it’s fun and the audience is laughing along with them when Marui sings, “ _La-la-la, I don’t know the fucking words_.”

Once they finish their last song, the first thing Marui does after he bows overdramatically is chug a bottle of water and get a piece of gum. Jackal goes to find his girlfriend, who has to get on her tip toes to kiss him even after he bends down. Urayama sucks at the fingers he holds his pick in and Oyama opens a new bag of sour gummy worms. Kato cracks almost every bone in her hands and it’s disgusting, but they’re still riding their highs and don’t care.

“The new songs sounded great,” Yanagi says. 

“I liked them too,” Yukimura says. “I think it gave me the inspiration I needed for your album art.”

“It was good,” Sanada says.

“Whoa, we got Hat’s approval,” Kato says. “I guess that means we did kick major ass.”

“Will you stop calling me that?” Sanada asks.

“ _Never_ ,” Kato says with an mischievous grin. Marui watches uncomfortably as the two hold the other’s eyes for one second too long for friendly banter. 

“We’ll see you later,” Yukimura says with a pleasant smile. “We need to go cut some people off. If you need any help packing up, let us know.”

Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi walk away, leaving the band to pack up.

“Kato, give me your hairband,” Marui says and Kato complies, taking hers off. His sweaty hair is matted to his forehead and he doesn’t care how ridiculous that lacy thing will look on him so long as it gets his hair out of his eyes. 

It takes nearly an hour to put their instruments away without distributing the speakers connected to Yanagi’s laptop. They have to deal with people coming up and asking about the band because, as far as Marui can tell, this is the first time half the people here have heard them. The other half still comes up and asks about their new album. 

Marui eats up the attention until Kato calls him a whore and hits him with her drumsticks. 

A little part of Marui wishes that Niou would come over and talk to him about his music, but that doesn’t happen. Once they finish packing up their instruments, Urayama and Oyama leave together, and Jackal all but runs to find Aiko again so they can dance until Yanagi shuts off the music. 

Marui pops a piece of gum into his mouth and circles the living room for Ren or someone else he knows. He spots Jackal and Aiko together, dancing without touching and being so cute it makes Marui want to puke. He walks by a game of beer pong and wishes Urayama and Oyama were there to play with mountain dew and and pixie stixes. 

He stops walking when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t like the way some guys are eyeing me,” Kato says. “Come with me while I smoke.” 

Marui slips his hands into his pockets and follows her out onto the back patio where there’s a group of smokers to the right near a porch lamp. He’s half tempted to jump into the open pool even though it’s not heated and he would die of hypothermia in record time. He settles for looking at the lights reflecting on the water.

They lean against the wall as Kato lights up a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. 

“I know,” she says. 

Marui feels like he should say something else, like he doesn’t want her to die, but he did that enough in the past and doesn’t feel like bringing that up again. 

“I can beat up the guys who were eyeing you,” he offers after a minute of silence.

“Nah,” she says. “But seriously, fuck having tits.”

Marui laughs and she joins in. They go silent when they hear the door slide open and shut as someone else walks outside. Marui isn’t expecting anyone in particular, but he’s still surprised when he looks and sees Niou. 

“Nice hairband,” Niou says, smirking. He leans against the wall near Marui. 

“Thanks. I was worried it wouldn’t match my skin tone,” Marui replies.

Kato reaches into her pocket and holds out her packet of cheap cigarettes to Niou, who says, “I don’t smoke.” 

“Really?” Marui says. “Because I’m pretty sure I caught you getting high with Yagyuu earlier this week.”

“I don’t smoke cigarettes,” Niou corrects.

Kato shrugs, puts the pack back into her pocket, and leans back against the wall. She blows out a puff of smoke, seems to realize something, then looks at Niou again.

“Wait,” she says, her eyebrows scrunched together, “if you don’t smoke, why’d you come out here?”

“Do I need a reason?” 

“Fine, be an antisocial ass when a hot girl is talking to you.” Kato bends her knee to stamp her cigarette out on the sole of her shoe. She looks at Marui and says, “I’m gonna bail. I have big plans that involve sleeping until noon and eating microwave ramen tomorrow.”

“Want me to walk you home?” Marui asks.

“Some girls I used to hang out with are going soon, so I’ll go with them. I’ll call you when I get home.”

Marui reaches up and takes off the hairband, tossing it to her before she goes back inside. 

Niou chuckles deeply and Marui turns on him.

“What?” Marui asks.

“Your hair,” Niou says. “It’s all stuck up.”

Marui shoves his fingers through his hair, which has dried but is now knotted and gross, and tries to flatten it back into place. He blows a bubble, frustrated, and sinks down to sit. He’s a little more than surprised when Niou slides down to sit next to him.

“Why did you come out here?” Marui asks curiously. “To smoke pot?”

“No,” Niou says. “And do you know how many people are in there?”

“Like, fifty.”

“Sixty two.”

“You counted all those people? How? Why?”

Niou folds his arms across his knees and sets his chin on them. He looks at Marui, who is just realizing how big and blue Niou’s eyes are, and clicks his tongue. 

“You ask too many questions,” Niou says. 

“Did you like the new songs?” Marui asks, grinning. Niou rolls his eyes. “We’re recording in a few weeks.”

“They were decent.”

“No, they were kick ass and you know it.”

For some reason, Niou smirks. Marui blows and pops a bubble.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Niou asks. Marui doesn’t understand and it must show on his face because Niou says, “I listen to your music practically nonstop during school. I walked right by you and I know you heard it because you made a smart ass comment, but you didn’t say it was your band.”

“I don’t know,” Marui says and he really doesn’t. “I like messing with people sometimes.”

Niou laughs and it goes straight to Marui’s groin. That hasn’t happened since he heard Oyama sing for the first time after his voice dropped and leveled out. 

“You listen to us practically nonstop?” Marui asks with a shit eating grin.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know. But _nonstop_?”

“That’s it. I’m leaving.” Niou grins when he stands up, dusts off his pants, and goes back inside. Niou is in tight, colored pants and Marui’s eyes linger on his slim hips a little longer than he should. 

Marui cools his head, then goes inside. He doesn’t see Niou, or Yagyuu, or anyone from his band, but he does see Ren sitting near the band equipment. She has her legs crossed and sips from a can of coke, waving when she spots him.

“Hey there, stranger,” she says. “You sounded good tonight. I liked the new songs. Are they going on the new album?”

“Yeah, they made the cut. We’re recording the week after next,” Marui says. “So I’m really confused right now and need to blow off some steam.”

“Well, I know something that could be blown,” she says with a sultry smile. 

“Have you been drinking?” he asks, completely serious. 

“Didn’t drink just so we could. Have you?”

“No.”

“Perfect. I have a condom and”—Ren reaches into her purse and pulls out something—“a key. Got it from Yukimura after your show. Guest bedroom, second door on the right, giant bed.”

Marui swallows his gum. He takes her by the hand and they go up the stairs, stopping more than once to press the other against the wall and kiss. He feels her breasts press up against his chest, slides his hands down to her hips and pull her closer, and sucks at her neck just under her jaw to make her moan. She tangles her hands into his hair and presses her tongue into his mouth. 

Marui can’t remember the sound of Niou’s voice when he hears the click of the lock, can’t picture his big blue eyes when Ren pushes him down on the bed and takes off her shirt, can’t think of anything else other than her. Her body is familiar and hot, and he feels like an addict in need of a hit when he touches her.

She crawls on top of him, her hair falling around their heads as she kisses him slowly, like they hadn’t just run up the stairs like giggling, horny idiots. Ren is always slow in bed. Her touches linger and tease just the right amount of time to drive Marui insane. 

Her tongue is soft and sure, and she pulls it back seconds after it touches his. He moans, wanting more.

“Patience, patience,” she murmurs. 

He reaches down with one hand and digs his fingers into the muscles of her thigh. He drags his hand up, pulling her skirt up further and further, and moves to cup his palm against the heat between her legs. Her breath hitches when his hand begins to move up and down against her underwear, slowly, with pressure applied just right to make her wet.

“Bunta,” she whispers, rolling her hips into his hand.

Her lips drag down to his neck and her hands slide up under his shirt, pushing it up and up until she’s tugging it off. Marui moves his hand from between her legs to her back, running up her spine towards the clasp of her bra. She arches down against his chest, her lips curving against his as she smiles. He runs along the back of her bra but can’t find the clasp. 

“I told you,” she says, sitting up, “ _patience_.”

He stares at her, watching with rapt interest as she reaches between her breasts to undo the clasp of her bra. Her breasts fall down against her chest and Marui makes a pathetic noise at the sight. 

Marui sits up, holding her still by wrapping an arm around her waist. Her breasts are soft under his hand and warm under his lips, and he strokes and kisses them until Ren is breathless and flushed. When she says his name, he finally curls his tongue against her nipple and moves a hand down to hook into her skirt.

She curls her hand around the back of his neck, playing with the hair there, and curls forward until Marui falls onto his back. She crawls down his chest, kissing and dragging her nails in all the right places, her breasts pressing and tugging against his skin when she moves. She puts her mouth on the bulge in his jeans.

“Ren,” he says. “Fuck.”

“Take them off,” she says, tugging at the waist of his pants. His concentration is split between his belt and the way she crawls on all fours to the edge of the bed. Her skirt is bunched up, revealing her underwear, tight and wet in all the right places.

It takes forever to kick off his pants and boxers and reach down to yank off his socks. He can feel himself getting harder at the sight of Ren bending over the bed. He wraps his hand around his cock and moans, his eyes closing and toes curling. 

Ren crawls back onto the bed once she has the condom from her purse. She watches him touch himself and goes between his legs, standing on her knees. She takes off her skirt, moves up over him to slide her skin against his, kisses him without teasing. He tangles his hands in her hair, moaning into her mouth. 

“Let me touch you,” he says, breathless. He fingers at the waist of her underwear. “I want to make you come.”

“Later,” she says. She gives him a parting kiss before moving between his legs. She opens the condom and easily rolls it onto his length. She works her hand over him, smiling at his flushed face and erratic breathing. 

“Ren, fuck, _fuck_ —”

She dips her head, taking him into her mouth, and he loses track of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics come from "Neighbors" by The Academy Is.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirihara hopes off the train and takes his skateboard out of his backpack. Once he gets above ground, he rolls his skateboard along the ground and jumps on at the perfect time, swerving in and out of the crowds. He keeps his hands in his pockets, only removing them to flip off someone who yells at him even though he totally wasn’t going to hit them.

_I’m not a dumb ass punk who just picked up a skateboard for shits and giggles_ , he thinks bitterly. _I know what I’m doing, fuckwad._

He turns a corner, approaching a set of descending stairs, and kicks up into the air to catch the rails. He goes down with a smooth nose-grind and meets the ground without stumbling. He sees a young kid staring, their mother horrified, and he flashes them a peace sign and a large smile before continuing down the street. 

There’s a skatepark that is the exact midpoint between his, Hiyoshi and Zaizen’s houses. It’s dirty and rundown, but it has a half-pipe and a large shallow bowl, plus a few benches of questionable integrity and lines of rails. Bumps of smooth, curved cement are scattered throughout the park and the steps are good for street skating. The brick walls that surround the place are covered in graffiti that changes every few days. At night, after the lights have flicked on, the police patrol to try and catch kids doing drugs down in the bowl; Hiyoshi says it’s ironic but Kirihara doesn’t get it. It’s not the nicest of places, but it feels like a second home to Kirihara.

He jumps off the skateboards and catches it in his hands when he comes to the flight of ascending stairs that leads to the skatepark. He jogs up the stairs and scans the area for his friends. He spots them by the vending machines in tight pants, bright tennis shoes, and oversized hoodies. 

“You’re late,” Hiyoshi says. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kirihara says with a roll of his eyes. “I overslept and missed the train so I had to wait around for the next one.”

“Shut up and skate.”

Kirihara grins when Hiyoshi tosses his skateboard onto the ground and jumps on, heading for the bowl with the expression of a calm veteran. Hiyoshi’s been skating since junior high and his form can be strange at times, but he’s as good, usually better, than anyone else Kirihara knows.  

“Come on,” Zaizen says, moving past Kirihara on his skateboard and dipping into the bowl. Zaizen’s been skating since some kids at his school coerced him into it, but he learned quickly like a skating genius. Kirihara met him last year at a street skating tournament where they tied for first. 

Kirihara tosses his backpack next to their stuff and hops back on his board to follow them into the bowl. He smiles as he goes down with gravity, curving back up on the other side with the slope of the walls. The grip on the deck is rough on his hand, but he ignores that sharp sting, like a nasty rug burn, and comes back down without faltering. 

Hiyoshi carves along the curve of the bowl and looks over his shoulder at Kirihara with a challenging smirk before disappearing into the tunnel. 

Kirihara picks up speed and follows him inside, skating through the curved enclosure. His muscles have long since memorized the movements and turns necessary to get him through. He comes up next to Hiyoshi on the other side, falling into pace next to him. 

“Bet I can get higher,” Kirihara says.

“Doubt it,” Hiyoshi says.

They grin and cut across in front of the other, bending their knees as they go up the opposite sides of the bowl and catch air. They come back down the bowl’s slope at the same time and nearly crash into each other at the bottom, each playing chicken to see who’ll back off first but neither does and—

_Shit, he’s gonna hit me_ , Kirihara thinks. He can see the same sense of panic in Hiyoshi’s eyes. Then suddenly, they know what to do. They both slow enough to reach for the other. Kirihara grabs onto Hiyoshi’s elbow and Hiyoshi grabs Kirihara’s shoulder to steady them back into a straight path along the bottom. 

“Not bad for a rich brat,” Kirihara says. 

“I’d say the same about an idiot,” Hiyoshi says.

Kirihara holds out his fist and Hiyoshi knocks it with his own. 

There’s something about pulling off a trick, even if it is damnably stupid like they one they just did. Kirihara likes the tricks with Hiyoshi, the tricks when they don’t talk about what they’re going to do and just seem to know what the other is thinking. 

The three of them have known each other for years, having met through street skating tournaments and word of mouth, but the nonverbal communication is new. It’s not perfect and has led to a few very nasty cuts and a concussion or two, but it’s exciting. It’s something new to master after all this time of doing the same old flips and jumps. 

Out of nowhere, Zaizen appears, coming from the opposite direction. He skates straight between them with a switch stance, riding goofy foot and ducking under their fist bump. 

“Stop flirting,” Zaizen says. “You two are like an old married couple who want to kill each other.”

Kirihara sticks out his tongue and his middle finger, and Hiyoshi rolls his eyes.

“Do it again?” Kirihara asks. 

“Definitely,” Hiyoshi says.

“I’m not cleaning up your blood when you crash into each other,” Zaizen says. “I looked like I’d killed someone last time.”

“We’re not going to crash into each other,” Kirihara shouts before following Hiyoshi into the tunnel. 

They crash into each other multiple times and fall even more, but the physical damage is minimal compared to what they used to get as amateurs. There’s only scrapped hands and unformed bruises to show for their mistakes. Their pride and ego are untouched.

They would probably still be trying to pull that stunt if Zaizen didn’t convince them to get out of the bowl so some other kids could go in without fear of colliding with Kirihara and Hiyoshi. They eat lunch from the vending machines, trading small bags of chips and boxes of sweets for funions and nasty sports drinks. When they’re done eating, they go right back to their boards. 

They grind against the stairs, go up and down the rails countless times and count the number of times they fall like it’s a competition, and ride over the half-spheres like they’re waves. They keep skating after the cheap lights flick on when it turns dark and they’re the only ones left. It’s not easy for them to get together often so when they find a day that they can, they milk it for all it’s worth. 

Zaizen is the first to quit and goes to add new graffiti to the brick walls. He shakes a can of his signature blue spray paint and goes to work while Hiyoshi and Kirihara keep skating.

They grab their helmets and take turns on the half pipe, switching back and forth seamlessly when they don’t mess up and fall. But soon even they get too tired to carry on and sit on the deck of the half pipe with their knees at the lip, their legs dangling down. 

“I won,” Kirihara says.

“Won what?” Hiyoshi asks.

“I don’t know, but I won.”

Hiyoshi laughs easily and falls onto his back. Kirihara look down at him and stares at his exposed skin above the waist of his pants. Hiyoshi is built in ways that make girls do double takes. It’s not from skateboarding, at least not all of it. Most of it’s from his work in martial arts. 

_Why am I looking?_ Kirihara thinks, his face going red. 

He immediately looks away and says, “I’m hungry. Let’s go get burgers.” 

“The diner down the street is closed by now, but McDonalds should still be open,” Hiyoshi says. 

“Zaizen!” Kirihara shouts. “We’re going to get food.”

“Thank god,” Zaizen mutters. “I’m starving.”

Hiyoshi jumps up and Kirihara finds himself staring for far too long.

.

Kirihara wakes up with damp boxers, hot and sweaty despite having kicked his sheets off. He reaches down under the fabric of his underwear, and feels his limp cock and the remains of half-dry semen in his pubic hair. He adjusts himself and takes his hand out before his brain gets any more dumb ideas, like touching himself while thinking about his best friend. His _male_ best friend.

What is he, fourteen again? It hadn’t even been that erotic of a scene compared to what he used to dream about during puberty. There were lips, red from kissing, and hands, roaming and reaching into pants, and sighs, breath hot against slick skin. He had felt skin, tan skin, _Hiyoshi’s_ skin. 

“Fuck me,” he swears. 

He pushes the incident into the back of his mind and heads to school, hoping on his skateboard after exiting the train. It’s easy to forget something as weird and utterly ridiculous as that dream when he remembers he has a test in English, or when he sees his ex-girlfriend grimace at the sight of him, and it’s especially easy when he skates straight into the student council vice-president.

“How many times have I told you not to ride that stupid thing on school property!” Nishimura shouts.

Kirihara scrambles to his feet and grips his skateboard protectively. “I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind—”

He remembers how hot Hiyoshi’s skin had been in his dream, how Hiyoshi had dragged his tongue over his skin, and how Hiyoshi had moaned when Kirihara fumbled with his dick. What’s wrong with him?

“Are you blushing?” Nishimura asks. “Never mind. We’re going to the student council room. I’m having Yagyuu lock that damn thing away until the end of the day.”

“No way,” Kirihara says. He pulls his skateboard close to his chest. “Give me detention instead. Or extra clean up duty. Just don’t take her away.” 

“Stop complaining and follow me.”

Nishimura begins to walk but Kirihara stays still. Nishimura calmly turns around and shoves his finger into Kirihara’s face. Nishimura has one of those dangerous smiles, the kind that seems pleasant but comes with murder eyes, the kind that Yukimura gets when someone insults his friends. Only Nishimura isn’t being overprotective, he’s being a dick.

“Yukimura isn’t around to protect you,” Nishimura says. “Do you want me to get the administration involved with this? How many times have you been suspended before?”

Kirihara pales. He can’t get suspended again. His mom would kill him.

“Just for today?” Kirihara asks, clutching his skateboard. 

“Yagyuu won’t let me destroy it, so yes.”

Kirihara makes a sour face. “Fine, you can lock her up for the day. Just don’t get me in trouble.”

Nishimura pivots and walks inside, Kirihara following like he’s walking to the gallows. He sees his ex again and her friends pointing at him, talking to her as if they’re telling her “I told you he was trouble.” Kirihara sends them a mental _fuck you_.

When they get to the student council room, they see Yagyuu and Yukimura talking. 

“What did you do?” Yukimura sighs. 

“He ran straight into me on his damn skateboard,” Nishimura says. For such a small guy, Nishimura sure has a lot of anger. Or maybe he has a lot of anger because he’s small. Kirihara isn’t sure.

“We’ve warned you before,” Yagyuu says, effectively stopping Kirihara’s chance to defend himself. “What did you want to do, Nishimura-kun?”

“Lock this stupid thing away so he doesn’t kill anyone.”

“Put it in the back cupboard. I’ll unlock it before the end of the day.”

Kirihara reluctantly gives up his precious skateboard after a game of tug-of-war with Nishimura. Once it’s locked away in the back cupboard, Nishimura leaves and Kirihara looks to Yukimura for help.

“I’m sorry, Akaya, my hands are tied,” Yukimura says. “Maybe you should stop skating on school grounds. It takes an extra twenty seconds to walk from the front door to the main gate.”

Kirihara grumbles and leaves to cram for his English test. 

Yukimura hands Yagyuu the next paper that needs signing and wonders what to do about Kirihara. He thinks of him as a second sibling, in addition to his little sister. He’s always encouraged Kirihara to try his best at what he loves, which has led Kirihara to win several street skating tournaments. But if he keeps getting trouble in school, it will be quite troublesome.

“Yukimura,” Yagyuu says, holding out his hand for the next paper.

“Sorry; it seems my mind is preoccupied,” Yukimura says and reaches for the stack of busy work papers. 

They work in relative silence, Yukimura passing papers and Yagyuu signing quickly, until Yagyuu’s phone chimes in his bag.

“Can you check my phone please?” Yagyuu asks. “I’m expecting a text from my sister.”

Yukimura finds Yagyuu’s phone in his bag after a minute of digging and checks the sender of the message. 

“‘Niou-kun?’” Yukimura reads. Yagyuu stretches out his hand and, smiling slyly, Yukimura places the phone in his palm. “What exactly is your relationship with Niou? I saw you two together at my party. You seem close.”

“We’re friends.”

“Niou doesn’t seem like the type of person you would be friends with.”

“You’re making something out of nothing,” Yagyuu says. Yukimura hums, obviously not convinced. Yagyuu doesn’t say anymore. 

He checks Niou’s message.

_what’s the red head’s name? M-something? the singer from zth_

Yagyuu frowns at his phone and replies.

_Marui Bunta. He’s in your class._

Yagyuu is not oblivious to Yukimura’s intrigued eyes, which are stuck to him like glue. He merely ignores them and tries not to let anything show. He has good reason to believe that Yukimura knows his sexuality and even if that is the case, he does not want to accidentally out Niou or reveal the nature of their relationship since it isn’t exactly a socially normative relationship. Being homosexual is dangerous at his age and Yagyuu does not want to tread on thinner ice than he already is.

He signs the remaining papers then goes to class and makes idle chit chat with Sanada while they wait for the teacher to arrive. They talk about Sanada’s upcoming kendo tournaments, Kirihara’s aversion to authority, and the party from last weekend. His phone chimes with another message.

“You should turn that off before the teacher comes,” Sanada says.

“I will,” Yagyuu says, turning off the volume then opening Niou’s message.

_make out in third floor bathroom @ usual time?_

_Sure._


	5. Chapter 5

Helping Zero to Hero record an album is the strangest, most rewarding experience Yanagi has ever had. Two years ago, when the band was just starting, he had helped them edit and piece together a seven song album in Marui’s basement. A year ago, he helped book a recording studio to re-record everything at a better quality, plus two new songs, and the sales went through the roof. In just a year, they’ve approached one thousand albums sold. 

This time, they have a week to record and edit eleven songs. Plus they have school for five days and since Yanagi refuses to jeopardize his perfect GPA, they’re only recording after school hours. They start on Sunday and have to be done on Saturday; they can’t afford the price of the recording studio for any longer. Jackal had to pick up extra shifts at his family’s restaurant to cover the costs that his bandmates couldn’t. 

Yanagi shows up at the recording studio at seven, an hour before the rest of the band is scheduled to arrive, and begins to set up. He tests out the equipment and double checks to make sure all the proper connections and wires are in working order. He signs for the band’s instruments when they arrive at seven thirty and begins to grueling work of lugging everything inside—Kato’s drums, Oyama and Urayama’s electric and acoustic guitars, Urayama’s keyboard, and Jackal’s bass guitar. 

The room they managed to book was small and cheap, but from what Yanagi can tell, it’ll do just fine. The band might have to squeeze in the recording room but since they play in Marui’s basement, they’re used to squeezing so it won’t affect anything. 

Oyama and Urayama show up just after Yanagi finishes wheeling Kato’s drums into the recording room. Yanagi is sitting on the sofa in the tech room and trying to act like his arms don’t hurt.

“Coffee?” Oyama asks, holding up a stack of six styrofoam cups from a cheap cafe. Yanagi takes a cup, knowing that he’ll need the caffein, and thanks him. 

Marui shows up minutes later and looks like utter hell. He has dark, unsightly bags under his bloodshot eyes and is wearing a ratty old t-shirt and worn out jeans. His lips are chewed red, like he forgot his gum and needed something to chew on. He takes a cup of coffee and checks over all the instruments.

“Where’s your violin?” Marui asks, looking at Urayama, then Yanagi. “We need it for acoustics. And Kato’s maracas and tambourine and cajon and stuff.” 

“I don’t have a good case for it so I don’t like shipping it with the rest of the instruments,” Urayama says. “It’s in my room. Kato’s stuff is at her house. She’ll bring it when we need it.” 

“Did you sleep at all?” Oyama asks. “We went over all of this last night.” 

“I got a few hours,” Marui says, rubbing his eyes and chewing his cheek. “I kept going over all the music and when I finally called it a night, I was too excited to sleep.”

Oyama tosses Marui a piece of gum and hopes he doesn’t choke on it.

Jackal and Kato come in together, dancing and singing a few of the new songs with enough spare energy to wake up Marui. Kato goes straight to the box housing her drums and begins to unpack, setting up in the back of the recording room.

“Yanagi, we ready to go?” Marui asks. 

“I need you all to warm up, then run through a song or two so I can properly adjust the audio settings,” Yanagi says. Marui spits his gum back into the wrapper.

As the band unpacks their equipment and Marui warms his voice and throat with simple vocal exercises, Yanagi moves to his spot in front of the equipment. This isn’t his first time in a proper recording studio, and he equipment and setup is similar to the kind used by the different establishments the bands frequents. 

Yanagi loves music. He anticipates the vibrations of the steady, understated bass and the ring out decrescendo of a note as a song ends. He appreciates well crafted, literary metaphors in the lyrics and the blunt, obvious meaning behind honest lines. He enjoys watching live performances and seeing band members smile into a microphone or jump with a rift they love to play. 

Zero to Hero combines everything he loves about music and adds their own twist to everything they do. Yanagi was first introduced to band through a long series of mutual acquaintances. Urayama and Oyama are friends with Kirihara, who is friends with Yukimura, who knows Sanada, who encouraged them to produce an album two years ago. Sanada’s exact words had been, “If you’re going to half-ass something, don’t even bother.” 

Something about that had set a spark in the band and they began to record and play public shows. Yanagi has helped them with their audio and lighting at shows for three years and he makes sure their equipment gets to where it needs to be. Jackal considers him their manager, but Yanagi doesn’t interfere with where they play or how they play and he refuses to get paid for his help. Yanagi merely assists them because he likes their music and if that makes him their manager, then he’ll accept the title.

Yanagi flicks on the microphones and gives them the green light. He watches with rapt admiration as they go through their pre-performance quirks. Marui holds his chunky headphones over his ears and jumps before pressing his lips up to the microphone. Kato spins her drumsticks exactly six times to get a feel for them. Jackal plays the same series of notes on his bass guitar at varying speeds with his fingers, then with several different picks he keeps in his case. Urayama moves his keyboard to the side and straps his bubble gum pink guitar across his chest. Oyama’s the lead guitar player, but some songs require two guitars and Urayama can play just as well as Oyama. The two guitarists look at each other and play the same chord in perfect unison, then switch off into two different melodies that blend together.

“Ready, Yanagi?” Jackal asks. 

“Yes,” Yanagi answers. 

Kato counts them out with her sticks then they break out into one of their old songs. Oyama and Urayama bring them in with a series of cacophonous guitar chords and Marui’s wavering voice, then harsh sound switches when Marui comes in with the first verse. Marui’s lips drag along the flat, circular microphone as he sings. 

“ _I’ve got that lefty curse_  
 _Where everything I do is flipped_  
 _And awkwardly reversed.”_

Yanagi begins to adjust the microphone volumes, turning down the guitar and drums and upping Marui’s voice to compensate for the drums. Oyama sings backup or echoes, and Yanagi struggles to find balance between the mic to his guitar and his voice.

When he finishes fiddling and turns his attention back to the band, looking at them through a window, he sees Marui smiling against the microphone as he sings. Despite being dead tired and stressed about the album, they’re having fun and it shows in the quality of the sound. There’s a reason Zero to Hero is Yanagi’s favorite band.

By the end of the song, Oyama and Marui are singing different lyrics in tandem without faltering. 

_“I don’t look innocent enough._   
_We’re too young to be cynics (we've got a big, big mess on our hands)_   
_We won’t wish any harm at all._   
_Don’t give in, don’t give up (we've got a big, big mess)._   
_No one looks innocent with this big, big mess on our hands tonight_   
_(A big, big mess. we've got a big, big mess on our hands)._

_“When it all comes crashing.”_

The end comes sharp and abrupt. 

“I have a good idea of how to adjust the audio,” Yanagi says into his speaker. “Although, it wouldn’t hurt to run through a few more songs before moving to the new material.”

They run through two of their old songs and a cover of a pop song before deciding to start one of the new songs. Yanagi has a good base for how loud they play, though some songs deviate from the norm and he’ll have to adjust as they go. 

Yanagi hasn’t heard the finalized versions of the majority of the new songs and he doesn’t know any of the titles, which the band swore to keep secret until the album release. So when they decide to start with About A Girl and Kato counts them, Yanagi doesn’t know what to expect. 

He isn’t disappointed—he never is with Zero to Hero.

“ _One song about a girl,_  
 _I can't breathe when I'm around her._  
 _I'll wait here everyday_  
 _In case she'll scratch the surface._  
 _She'll never notice.”_

Marui is not usually an overly metaphorical writer. Some of the fans like to think otherwise, twisting his lyrics to mean things they don’t. Of course, this does not mean that there isn’t a meaning to songs that Marui intends for everyone to understand. The band knows things about some songs that others don’t. Yanagi has a feeling this is one of those songs.

Marui holds his headphones with his hands as he sings into the microphone, his face transforming into a mirror of his emotions when he hits the chorus. 

_“I'm not in love._   
_This is not my heart._   
_I'm not gonna waste these words_   
_About a girl.”_

They don’t get it perfect on the first try. Even considering their natural talents, that would be a miracle. 

On the fourteenth try, after several short breaks, Yanagi tells them to stop while he cuts and edits part of this take into another. Kato goes for a smoke break, and Jackal and Urayama leave to find a vending machine. Marui digs through the bag he brought and pulls out a squirt bottle of honey and a spoon. He hums around the honey coated spoon and passes it off to Oyama, the only other person in the band who sings. 

“What’d you think?” Marui asks before taking a second spoonful of honey.

“I liked it,” Yanagi says truthfully. “It was rather blunt, though. Of course, I may be more likely to read between the lines since I already know you’re bisexual.”

“We debated not putting it on but we all liked it and honestly, I’m sick of keeping it a secret in my music,” Marui says. 

“We decided to call it artistic license when people ask why he wrote it,” Oyama says. 

“That always seems to work,” Yanagi says. 

When Kato, Urayama and Jackal return, Yanagi turns on the speakers and plays back the edited version he just pieced together. It’s perfect, but the band is hesitant to call it finished. They decide to let the song sit for a bit and see whether they want to come back to it or not later. 

Yanagi goes to get a soda while they set up for the next song. It’s going to be a long day.

.

They stay at the studio until midnight, eating cheap takeout for dinner and playing songs like they’re beating a dead horse. Urayama is so tired that he sleeps through almost all of his classes on Monday. He only manages to avoid detention because he sits in the back behind Oyama, who is so tall that he acts as a shield. Urayama could probably be naked and his teacher wouldn’t be able to see him. 

Urayama closes his eyes and leans against Marui on the train as he eats from Oyama’s bag of recording munchies, which are basically chunks of solid, colored sugar. Oyama keeps telling him he needs to wake up before they get to the studio and Urayama grumbles, “Five more minutes,” every five minutes until they get there. He dips his hand back into Oyama’s bag of candy and hopes sugar will be enough. 

The second they get inside and he stands in front of his keyboard, he wakes up. He adjusts the sound output on the board until it makes the right sound for the song. 

“So how are we doing this?” Urayama asks.

“We talked about it on the way here,” Jackal says. 

“I wasn’t on the train,” Kato points out. 

“And I was asleep,” Urayama says, smiling. 

Yanagi’s voice comes in through the speaker, “Urayama is going to play through on his keyboard. Once we get that, we’ll record the second guitar part and the clapping separately, and add those in.”

It takes four tries for Marui to come in on the right note. He’s either a second too early or too late and Oyama’s tempo is thrown off. 

_“They carved a message deep within our broken hearts that failed to mend:  
Make out kids never had a chance to be best friends.”_

Recording the parts separately is strange. The input in Marui’s headphones incomplete and he wishes he could sing along to all the parts at once. He stops singing halfway through the song, after Urayama has botched the keyboard and Kato has lost the tempo.

“Let’s do this separately,” Marui says. “I’ll add in the lyrics at the end.”

They go into the recording room one by one, playing cards while one of them works. When Marui goes back in after several hours to add in his vocals, he hears the full song come in through his headphones and his voice and it’s perfect. But somehow he still manages to come in on the wrong note and Kato won’t shut up about it.

.

On Tuesday, Jackal texts his girlfriend during glass.

_Let’s skip._

_Now?_ Aiko replies. 

_Yes._

_Marui’s a bad influence on you._

_Come onnnnn._

_Fiiiiine._   
_Meet in greenhouse in ten minutes._   
_Operation Delinquent is a go._   
_Don’t compromise us soldier._

_Never, Lieutenant._

Jackal fakes a stomach ache to skip forth period. He sneaks out through the gym and meets Aiko in the green house that belongs to the gardening club behind the school. The pollen from the flowers itches his nose and one of the pipes drips at a constant rate, the droplets splashing down into a filled bucker and slowly driving him insane.

He spreads out his blazer and she puts down her sweater over the dirt speckled floor. Resting his head in her lap, he looks up at her.

“Sorry for making you skip,” Jackal says.

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to,” Aiko says, fiddling with his tie. “I hate English lecture anyways.”

“We should do this more often.”

“You mean ditch class? No way. We would fail as delinquents. You’re too straight edge  and I care way too much about getting into university to do this ever, ever again.”

“Never ever?” Jackal asks. 

“Never ever,” Aiko laughs. 

Jackal reaches up and moves her curls away from her face. “I can’t wait until we graduate. I’ll have my music and my family’s restaurant, and you’ll have school. Then after you graduate and go to veterinary school we can get an apartment or something. We’ll figure everything out along the way.”

“You make it sound like you want to spend forever with me,” Aiko says.

“‘They say that love is forever, but your forever is all that I need.’”

“Is that a song lyric?”

“Yes, but it’s not one of Marui’s.”

Aiko smiles and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “You’re such a dork,” she says and leans down to kiss him.

They go back inside when they hear the lunch bell, kissing before parting, and Jackal promises to call her after they’re done in the studio. He goes through the rest of the day in a haze, his fingers restless. He forms chords on his fingers and taps his foot to the beat in his head. At the end of the day, he gets a text from Aiko.

_Good luck babe._

Jackal goes down the steps two at the time and takes a few pieces of candy when Oyama offers them to the band on the train. 

“What are you so happy about?” Marui asks him after their fifth take of the song. Oyama and Urayama keep getting tripped up on a few tricky chords and the one time they don’t, Marui is so surprised he messed up his lyrics. 

“Just things,” Jackal says.

“Weirdo,” Marui says. “Let’s try it again. One, two—”

.

Marui spends Wednesday writing out the lyrics to the song they’re recording today. They’ve decided to only do one song today since it’s special in a way. It’s the song he wrote for Kato back in junior high when things were shit for them. It’s taken them over three years to record it and it feels strange knowing that at the end of the day, after his history test and a few hours in the studio, that after one day in the studio, part of their lives will finally be put to rest. 

Kato is waiting for them at the train station by the studio. She hops onto Marui’s back and he carries her piggy-back to the studio. She taps out a beat on his head with her fingers and his thighs become her bass and his ears her symbols. Marui makes up lyrics off the top of his head to accompany her and it sounds like flowery, poetic shit.

He puts her down behind her drums and moves in front of his mic. He looks at his band while they tune in their instruments and warm up. He watches as Kato plays the beat to the song on her drum set like its muscle memory.

When Yanagi gives them the green light, the words pour out of him like pure emotion. The memories and words are like triggers to him. 

_“Somewhere hiding underneath,_   
_Kicking off covers while you sleep._   
_Soon you're gonna leave, so leave us one_   
_More weekend.”_

He remembers sitting in Kato’s room while she talks about sleeping and never waking up. Fearing she wouldn’t make it to the weekend. Crying and screaming because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Writing songs and feeling like a freak for liking boys and girls. Hating themselves more than they ever thought was possible. 

_“Somewhere hiding underneath,_   
_Running around these empty streets._   
_Do you think you're better off dead,_   
_Better off dead than alive in here?_   
_You've got all the friends you need,_   
_Bad tattoos and worse IDs. You feel alive,_   
_Do you feel alive?”_

He looks over his shoulder at Kato and she’s lost in what she’s doing. Marui smiles and whirls around, barely making his intro for the chorus in the time. 

_“You'll go off, you'll forget,_   
_You'll grow out of hanging from the edges,_   
_Breaking off the past._   
_You'll know when to move on,_   
_You'll know when to take all the right chances,_   
_Never looking back.”_

Writing this had been his one solace to her during those years. He wrote it for her, for himself, and for every kid who didn’t make it through like they did. 

But that’s in the past. All of it is. All those crappy feelings and worries that seem so stupid now are gone. And they’re still standing.

The song fades out. As he slips off his headphones, Kato jumps out of her seat and wraps her arms around his torso. She presses her face in-between his shoulder blades. He’s conflicted at the dampness that spreads across the fabric of his uniform and the laughter that comes out of her mouth.

“I took my pills this morning and thought of this song,” she says, voice cracking with out of place laughter and emotion, “and when I thought about this song, I realized I never thanked you for writing it. So thanks.”

Marui breaks away from her hold and turns around to hug her. Urayama, Oyama and Jackal watch silently. They know, but they don’t get it, not the way Marui does. Kato’s depression was always bewildering to them. Even he doesn’t quit understand it. His dark times were different from hers.

“Don’t say shit that doesn’t need saying,” Marui says.

“Asshole,” Kato mutters.

“Yeah, I know.” Marui wants to do something like kiss the top of her head or say he loves her, but she would just punch him. Urayama is tearing up and Marui laughs, “What the hell are you crying for?”

Urayama shrugs and wipes at his eyes. “I’m a sympathetic cryer, okay?”

“You big baby!” Kato says. She leaves Marui and goes to rub Urayama’s hair until it’s a mess. That’s the moment that Marui knows for sure that things are better.

.

On Thursday, Urayama makes Oyama and Marui drink tea with honey before they even step foot into the recording room. Kato is sitting on the sofa doing homework and Jackal is on Skype with Yukimura, who is at the school’s art studio working on their album art. Sanada periodically walks behind Yukimura, grumbling about something or another.

Urayama takes the violin he had carried with him all day and goes into the recording room. A few of their songs, mainly the acoustics, have tunes that can’t be expressed through guitars or keyboards. Urayama picks up instruments from time to time so they don’t have to rope in another member. The violin is one of the instruments he learned in addition to the guitar and keyboard. He also knows ukelele, the cello, and some instrument that no one else can pronounce. 

When the two have finished their tea and Urayama is finished playing the violin, Oyama and Marui settle onto stools in the recording room and adjust the mics to the proper heights. Urayama switches to his acoustic guitar. They spend a few minutes tuning their guitars and voices before Yanagi gives them the green light. 

Marui loves Urayama and Oyama’s acoustic guitars. Urayama’s has rainbow paint all over his white guitar—words spelling inside jokes, names of his bandmates, song titles and lyrics that curve with the wood, small doodles that make sense to him and no one else. Oyama’s black acoustic looks brand new at first glance, but like his electric, it has nicks and scratches from over the years. They’re named Thing One and Thing Two, but Marui always forgets which is which. 

Oyama taps them in on his guitar, and Urayama and he come in together. The three have done their acoustics together since Marui was in junior high, back before they could afford electric guitars and amps, and it always comes out sounding natural.

_“Looking out at a town called Suburbia,_   
_Everybody's just fighting to fit in,_   
_Little rats running mazes, having babies._   
_It's a vicious little world that we live in._   
_Looking back at a life on the other side,_   
_I realize that I didn't fit in,_   
_Didn't hate it but I didn't quite relate it_   
_To my precious little world.”_

Oyama joins in at the chorus. Marui’s voice is smooth and practiced, while Oyama’s is rougher and deeper but it melts in with Marui’s like they were meant to be mixed.

_“So long live the reckless and the brave._   
_I don't think I want to be saved._   
_My song has not been sung._

_“And long live the fast times, so come what may._   
_I don't think I'll ever be saved._   
_Our song has not been sung._   
_Long live us."_

Kato claps when they finish the song even though they can’t hear her inside the recording room. Jackal and Yukimura have gone silent, unable to say a word. Sanada stands still, blinking dumbly behind Yukimura in the back of the art studio.

“That was perfect,” Yanagi says. 

“I want to run through it again,” Marui says, adjusting his headphones. “It can be better. It has to be better.”

“It really was fine. I can play if back for you.”

“Just leave him be,” Kato says. 

“Yeah,” Jackal agrees. “He likes that song too much to only play it once anyways.”

“Shut up!” Marui says, but there’s no real anger behind it. “Let’s go again, guys.”

Oyama counts them off. 

They do ten more takes of that song, but the first still sounds the best. They’re just about to take a break when Yukimura and Sanada come by with bags of hot, greasy food. Kato snatches a bag of fries from Sanada, sticking her tongue out when he scowls. Yukimura passes out burgers to everyone.

The band crams in on the tiny sofa; Kato has to sit on Jackal’s knees and Urayama sits sideways with his legs stretched out over Oyama and Marui’s laps. They laugh and tell bad jokes and throw insults, passing the same drink back and forth because they’re too lazy to get up. 

At some point, Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi come to realize that they will never fully understand the band or the songs the way they do. 

.

Kirihara comes with them to the recording studio on Friday and they all agree that is the biggest mistake of their lives. He won’t sit still and when they send him outside to skate, he comes back twenty minutes later complaining about how bored he is. “The stairs suck, there are no rails, and there’s no bumps,” Kirihara complains. Even with soundproof headphones, Yanagi is having a difficult time tuning out the younger boy.

To make it worse, they still have three songs to record by tomorrow night and they can’t waste a second. Kirihara has the tendency to waste _hours_.

While the band works on Skeptics and True Believers in the recording room, Kirihara is stretched across the sofa, singing an overrated pop song very loudly and very, _very_ badly. Kirihara doesn’t have one artistic bone in his body and he certainly doesn’t have artistic vocal chords. 

Marui’s tongue gets twisted on the lyrics, Kato’s hands are sore, Urayama’s fingers have blisters, and Oyama and Jackal are visibly pissed at everything with a pulse.

“We can do this,” Urayama says.

Jackal grits his teeth, biting back a comment. 

“I need to smoke,” Kato says. “We’re not getting anywhere and we don’t have time to record everything. We’re fucked and not in the fun way.”

“Come on,” Urayama pleads. “One more time. I’m sure we’ll get it.”

Yanagi’s voice cuts through on the speakers the exact second Marui is about to lose it. “I have an idea; please hold on one moment,” he says. “Kirihara, please give me your iPod.”

Yanagi repeats his requests three more times before shouting, which startles Kirihara, who jumps clear off the sofa and hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Kirihara swears. “What?”

“Give me your iPod,” Yanagi says. Kirihara complies and after some quick tinkering, Kirihara’s iPod is connected to the speakers. He goes back on the microphone and says, “You’re all going to sing along to whatever song comes up and you’re going to stop fighting.”

“I’m not singing,” Jackal grumbles. 

“Fuck this bullshit,” Kato says.

Yanagi puts Kirihara’s iPod on shuffle. He immediately recognizes the unreasonably catchy pop song that comes on. The band remains stubbornly silent, which Yanagi figures is an improvement from shouting at each other.

“What if this doesn’t work?” Kirihara asks.

“We’ll have them all play separately and combine their best takes,” Yanagi says. 

“Shouldn’t you have done that from the start? So they don’t have to play perfectly all the time?”

“It takes too much time. We only do it when we have to. We don’t have the luxury of having an undefined amount of time to work on each song. Besides, Marui tends to work better with the band.”

When the chorus hits, the band breaks out into unified song.

Kirihara bends over laughing as they flawlessly go through the chorus. Yanagi smiles victoriously. It’s a trick he learned while recording their previous album, but it loses it’s effectiveness quickly because they will sit there all afternoon singing other people’s songs instead of their own.

“I fucking hate you, Bowl!” Kato says when the chorus ends. 

“I hate this song,” Oyama says.

“But you’re singing along, Kenta,” Urayama laughs. 

“It’s impossible not to sing along to this,” Marui says.

Their conversation is cut off by the next chorus and they sing again. 

Yanagi lets Kirihara’s iPod play through three songs until they’re switching off parts and singing along to every word, not just the chorus, and their banters have turned friendly and non murderous. Kirihara takes a video of Oyama singing while Jackal dances as if he’s alone, his hips moving like liquid.

When they stop and go back to playing, they hit ever note and chord.

. 

Saturday is spent fixing any songs they aren’t completely happy with. If one person in the band doesn’t like something, they rerecord that part and edit it in. Yanagi uses his magic with the audio and makes it sound so flawless that Urayama is almost in tears again. They play back all the songs in the order they will appear on the album and Marui desperately wants to hear what other people think. 

“Seiichi and Genichirou will be here soon,” Yanagi says. “Seiichi is bringing the art.”

“Are we changing anything else?” Marui asks.

“It’s all perfect, don’t you dare even _mention_ the idea of changing something, Marui Bunta,” Kato says. 

She shoves her finger in his face and he laughs, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just making sure.”

Urayama grabs Kato’s wrist and moves her finger from his face. Oyama pulls a bag of gummy worms out of nowhere and begins to eat them, sharing them with Jackal who calls Aiko to let her know they’re done and he’ll be over early to study. Marui and Kato begin to bicker about something stupid, dragging Urayama into the middle of it.

Yanagi is the only one to notice when Yukimura and Sanada arrive. 

“How did you put up with them?” Sanada asks. He looks at Kato as she talks with her hands, making a passionate point about something musical. Then he looks at the rest of the band and mentally compares Zero to Hero to the worst, most unorganized army in existence.

“I have no idea,” Yanagi sighs.

Yukimura clears his throat and that gets their attention.

“Holy shit!” Kato screeches. “When’d you get here?”

“Witchcraft!” Marui adds.

The band laughs. Then they realize why Yukimura is here. Yukimura is holding a canvas covered by a piece of cloth—their album art. The band goes quiet as they wait for Yukimura to say something. 

“Before I show you, do we have an album title?” Yukimura asks, hopeful.

The bandmates look at each other, nodding and smiling until their eyes settle on Urayama to announce their decision. Urayama says, “It’s called Bigger, Longer and Uncut,” and the band laughs again.

“You’re the best band of our generation and you make a penis joke?” Yukimura says.

“We named our band after a Disney song,” Jackal says.

“Fair point. May I present to you”—Yukimura grips the fabric blocking his work, yanking it away in one fluid moment—”Bigger, Longer and Uncut.”

“Holy shit, Girly, that’s—” Kato stops, her jaw hanging open, unable to find the right word. 

Jackal opens his mouth several times, but nothing comes out and he ends up looking like a fish. He eventually manages to say, “What she said.”

Urayama eyes widen to the size of saucers and he jumps subtly t in excitement, saying,  “Kenta, Kenta. It’s awesome. _Kenta_.” Urayama grabs at Oyama’s shoulder, shaking him until Oyama smiles and nods in silent agreement.

Marui can’t do anything but stare at Yukimura’s creation.

It’s a collage of old magazines clipped and pieced together to form the head of a gorgeous woman with pink lips and long dark hair. There’s a roughness to its beauty and a small amount of chaos that flows from curve to curve. There are no words to explain how perfect it seems, how for some reason it seems to resonate with the band without needing words.

“We did it,” Marui says. 

“Fuck yeah!” Kato shouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order, the songs are “We’ve Got A Big Mess On Our Hands” by The Academy Is, “About A Girl” by The Academy Is, “Make Out Kids” by Motion City Soundtrack, “One More Weekend” by The Academy Is, “The Reckless & The Brave - Acoustic” by All Time Low, and “Skeptics And True Believers” (mentioned) by The Academy Is.


	6. Chapter 6

The band drops off the face of the earth on Sunday. Kato sleeps the entire day, setting a new personal record with twenty-two straight hours of sleep. Jackal goes to Aiko’s to study but ends up falling asleep on her floor, missing lunch and dinner. Marui doesn’t hear anything from Oyama or Urayama, but he assumes they’re okay and just in sugar comas. Marui stays up the entire day writing, like he’s on some sort of high. He works on lyrics to new songs and the bare skeleton of the instrumentals, then crashes Monday morning, just before school. 

He feels like a zombie. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion, his hands won’t listen to him, and he is desperately trying to stay awake and not nod off during the middle of math. He digs his nails into his palm, which hurts but doesn’t do anything to help him stave off sleep. He puts a new piece of gum in his mouth and hopes the taste will help trick his brain.

“Marui-kun, spit out that gum!” the teacher snaps.

“Fuck off,” Marui says without thinking. 

The class goes silent and Marui has a slow moment of realization. Niou stares at him with surprised eyes and a proud upward twist of his lips. 

Marui wants to disappear entirely, but he realizes that that probably won’t happen. The teacher’s face is red, quickly turning an ugly purple, and he looks ready to pop a vein. Marui would bet his teacher would chase him out of the room if he decided to bolt. Would jumping out the window help?

_Say something,_ Marui thinks. _Or it’ll just get worse._

“Sir,” Marui says slowly, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I didn’t mean—”

With a tight jaw and clenched teeth, the teacher snaps, “You have detention for the rest of the week! Report to the disciplinary room at the end of the day.”

Marui doesn’t even try to argue because he’s probably getting off easy. _I fucked up,_ he thinks.

The teacher returns to teaching, though his tone is different and the class is deathly afraid to ask any questions for the rest of the day. Marui looks over at Niou, who is staring at the board like he always does.

Marui sinks into his seat and falls asleep. It’s not like he could get into anymore trouble. 

He wakes up to texts from everyone, even Kato, telling him that they heard about his stupid outburst. Marui isn’t surprised that the story spread that fast—nothing stays secret for long in high school—but he’s still mildly impressed that Kato found out from someone other than Aiko, Jackal, Oyama or Urayama. His favorite text is the one from Aiko saying she knew it was only a matter of time until he lost it, and the second text she sent saying that she’s making lemon bars and that she’ll bring him some tomorrow. Marui doesn’t care if Aiko is giving him those lemon bars out of pity or friendship because those things are his ambrosia. He would gladly fight someone to the death over the last lemon bar of a batch.

At the end of the day, he heads down to the disciplinary room in the basement. The room is at the of a long, unused hall with empty classes filled with broken TVs and boxes of Erlenmeyer flasks. Marui pretends not to be freaked out by the missing ceiling tiles and the disgusting, arbitrary brown spots on the floor. He wonders how Kirihara survives walking through this place at least every other week for detention. Marui is glad he chose to rebel through music and not misconduct. 

The door creaks when he opens it and, like a bad horror movie, the lights flicker when he hits the switch. He sits in the front row at a dusty desk and pulls up a game on his phone to dick around until the teacher on duty comes by. 

The door opens and Niou walks in, sits down next to him, and changes the song he’s listening to. Since Yukimura’s party, Marui has made a conscious effort to listen to Niou’s music. Marui has realized that Niou wasn’t kidding about listening to his band nonstop. Today is an exception, but Marui still recognizes the indie band and approves of Niou’s music choices.

“You got detention too?” Marui asks. “Why?”

“It’s from gym,” Niou says with a bored expression. “I don’t like taking out my hip piercings and sometimes my shirt rides up.” He shrugs like he’s used to it.

“Do you ever think that you fit the delinquent teenager stereotype too well?”

“Every once and while.”

Marui wonders if Kirihara will come down, but he doesn’t. No one does for awhile and Marui debates how much time he has left on this world, half expecting a monster to appear and eat them. The suspense it almost comical. 

_It’s just detention. And Niou’s here._

The teacher shows up ten minutes late with a cup of coffee and a through-with-this-shit expression. He scribbles the start and end time of detention on the blackboard, then looks at them for the first time. His voice is monotone and his hair is nonexistent. 

“Do your work. Keep quiet. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

And just like that, the teacher is gone.

_Talk about anticlimactic._

Niou puts his music away, grabs his bag, and heads for the door. Marui quickly says, “Where are you going? He’ll be back in five minutes.”

“That guy won’t come back until he needs to let us out,” Niou says. He sounds confident about this. Marui wonders just how many times Niou has had detention.

Marui picks up his bag and follows Niou out the door. He doesn’t know where Niou is going or what he’s going to do, but anything is better than sitting in that creepy room. 

Niou studies him for a moment. His unsettling blue eyes make Marui want to hide within his own skin. Niou’s face lets no more show than he wants to show, and it reminds Marui of Yukimura to some extent. At the same time, Niou is not like Yukimura, who smiles at his enemies and makes friends with ease. Niou is alien and has a way of getting into your head and making you perceive him a certain way. 

Eventually Niou sighs, accepting that Marui is coming whether he wants him to or not, then continues to walk down the hall towards the stairwell. Marui matches his slow pace and gets a piece of gum out of his pocket.

“So you’re a slut,” Niou says casually, like he’s talking about the weather or their homework. 

“Nice conversation starter,” Marui replies sarcastically. “Yeah, people call me a slut. If you think I’m impressed that you heard a rumor, I’m not.”

“I didn’t hear it in a rumor. People look at you like you’re a slut. Self-righteous assholes look down on people like us.”

“People like us?”

“People who like _sex_.” The word rolls off of Niou’s tongue and is said like Niou is teasing him. Marui blows a bubble as Niou goes on, “What I don’t know is what you did to deserve it.”

“I have an arrangement with a girl.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Pretty much. Most guys would be praised for getting with a girl like her, but since she approached me with the idea, I’m a slut.” 

Niou leaves the staircase on the second floor and stops in front of the boys’ bathroom, rattling the door knob. 

“What’s wrong?” Marui asks. “Locked?”

“Yeah. And I left my copy of Yagyuu’s master key back in the room.” Niou travels a few more feet and tries the girls’ room, which is unlocked and opens. He looks over his shoulder at Marui. “Are you coming or not?”

This isn’t what people do. People don’t skip out on detention and sneak into the girls’ bathroom with the hot punk kid who smokes pot. 

The girls’ room is almost exactly like the boys’ only it smells better and lacks urinals along the wall. Niou checks the stalls, then locks the door behind them and sits on the windowsill. He cracks the window and reaches into his pocket to pull out a cheap, red disposable lighter and a twisted roll of off-white paper.

“You’re in detention and you’re going to get high?” Marui asks.

Niou gives Marui a look, not answering, but it is very clear that Niou plans to get high during detention. Leaning against the sinks, Marui watches Niou light up the joint and inhale deeply. Finally, Niou says, “You can leave. I’m not keeping you here.”

Marui shrugs and blows a bubble, like he doesn’t care, but he hesitantly looks at the door. Niou blows smoke out the window, not commenting on Marui’s anxiety if he notices it.

“Why do you smoke?” Marui asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Niou says.

Marui barely knows Niou, but he knows that asking again won’t get him an answer.

“So what else do you know about me?” Marui asks curiously. 

“You’ve had your heart broken, you or someone you know was depressed at some point, and you’re bi.”

Marui can’t respond for a few moments. He stares at the enigma of a person in front of him and wonders how, and why, and who can figure that out about the kid who sits next to them in class.

“It’s your music,” Niou says, inhaling another lungful. He extends his arm and offers the joint to Marui, who stares at the object with trepidation. 

“I’ve never been high,” Marui says. He blows a bubble to hide his hesitation. 

“You don’t have to. It’s not fun if you’re forced into it.” 

Marui takes the joint before Niou can pull back his offer. Turning and rolling it between his fingers, he debates the consequences. 

“Ah, fuck it,” Marui says and Niou smiles. 

Marui swallows his gum. He puts the joint between his lips before he changes his mind and inhales a small amount of smoke, then passes the joint back to Niou. The strange taste of smoke and pot linger in his mouth, and it’s not entirely unpleasant, but it isn’t exactly enjoyable either. 

“You write the music, right?” Niou asks, blowing smoke out the window.

“Yeah. The band helps with a word or two, but almost all of it’s mine.” He pushes Niou’s legs to the side and sits on the other end of the windowsill. There’s not much room and their knees knock, their legs bumping and intertwining. Marui says, “Not many people catch the depression bit.”

Niou rolls the joint and stares out the window. He speaks, but his voice is so easy on the ears and smooth that he may as well be singing, “ _When comfort is an empty evening, hanging on to complications. Sometimes quick sand has a massive appeal to me. I want to be somewhere else.”_

Marui jumps in, singing the chorus and taping out the beat on his knees:

_“I think I can figure it out,_   
_But I'm gonna need a little help to get me,_   
_Need a little help to get me—_   
_I think I can figure it out,_   
_But I'm gonna need a little help to get me through it,_   
_To get me through it.”_

Niou hands him the joint and this time, the smoke feels lighter and smoother going down his throat. He holds onto the joint and Niou doesn’t complain.

“My friend was suicidal,” Marui says. “I hated myself, but I don’t think I could be called depressed. I got out a lot easier than she did.”

Marui takes in another lungful before finally passing the joint back to Niou, who holds it between his lips.

“Why the hell am I telling you this?” Marui asks.

Niou doesn’t respond, which Marui is oddly thankful for. 

Marui doesn’t know how long they sit there passing the joint back and forth. The longer they’re there, the greater the nagging, mind boggling need to write becomes. His mind is whirling with lyrics and tunes, but beneath the lines of words, there’s something else on his mind.

“What songs outed me?” he asks. About A Girl is in the new album, not the old one, and he made sure none of the songs on the last album referenced his sexuality bluntly. Some songs contained lines about his self hate and how he felt out of place, but none of them said why.

“They didn’t,” Niou says. “I guessed and you just told me.”

“Asshole.” Marui smiles even though he isn’t mad. 

Niou stamps out the joint, which is now a short nub that is hard to hold, and tosses it out the window. “We should get back,” he says.

“But I’m hungry. I lost my snacks,” Marui says. Niou smirks. Marui smiles, not knowing why and he wonders if his mind is already laced with pot, and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“I can break into the vending machine on the second floor, but I need scissors or a screwdriver.”

“I keep a screwdriver in my bag.”

“Why?” Marui laughs. 

“Why not?” 

Marui pops a stick of gum in his mouth before they leave the girls’ bathroom and return to the classroom. As they walk, Marui laughs because he just got high in the girls’ bathroom with the new kid. Kato is going to flip a shit when he tells her.

The teacher hasn’t returned. So Niou gets his screwdriver and they head back to the second floor where they pull the vending machine away from the wall and Marui teaches Niou how to pry open the back without breaking anything. They take out cans of juice and bags of chips and sweets, then return to the disciplinary room in the basement with their arms full.

Marui is halfway through his pile of snacks when he remembers something. “Your hips are pierced?” he says. “I didn’t know that was a thing. What else do you have pierced?”

“That sounds perverted.”

Marui reaches into his bag, already uninterested in the subject he brought up, and takes out a pen and pad of paper. He scribbles down the words running in his head and the strings of notes that are stuck on repeat. Niou watches with mild interest, but says nothing.

Marui writes until the end of detention. He tears out almost all of the sheets in his notebook, forming a pile of paper snowballs beneath his desk. Humming and singing under his breath, he loses track of time and soon the teacher comes in to dismiss them. Marui gathers up his failed attempts and shoves them into his bag. By the time he’s finished packing, Niou has left without a word. 

Marui catches a train home, still mouthing new lyrics and nodding his head to the rhythms in his head. When he gets to his house, he makes a bowl of instant ramen and goes up to his room, sitting on his bed. He goes through the messages on his phone, sees Kato’s message telling him to call her, and finds her number in his contacts.

“Hey,” Kato says. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight. I have a shit ton of homework and you’re better at history than me. I figured I could pay you back with English help.”

“I’m eating ramen,” Marui says. 

“I’m proud of you. Can I come over?”

“I’m tired so I think I’m going to go to sleep. If you want to come over and watch me sleep, you can.”

“You’re acting weird. Did some delinquent from detention give you drugs or something?” Marui doesn’t respond. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Are you actually high?”  Kato asks, laughing.

“Like a plane,” Marui replies. “Niou and I had detention together and we got baked in the girls’ bathroom.”

“Why the girls’?”

“The boys’ was locked. How come girls’ bathrooms smell better?”

“I don’t know,” Kato says. He can practically hear the roll of her eyes. “So you got high with the new kid. He’s cute. Do you think he’s straight or gay?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell. Yukimura has better gaydar than me.”

“True. Girly has a sixth sense for that shit.”

“I wrote some stuff,” Marui says, changing the subject once again. “It’s totally awesome.”

“We can meet up tomorrow and you can show me. I’ll go to Jackal’s to do homework if Aiko and him aren’t fucking,” Kato says. “You can also tell me about your drug adventures with Stoner New Kid tomorrow. I want to listen when you’re full of regret, not THC. Now get some munchies and go to sleep, you moron.”

Kato hangs up. As he’s leaving his contacts, he sees a new name. He questions his sanity, decides that the name and number are actually there, and then texts Niou.

_When did you put your number in my phone?_

_I picked your pocket_

_When?_

_Guess_

Marui laughs. He plays Tetris until he falls asleep in his clothes. 

.

Marui doesn’t wake up feeling like complete shit like he does when he drinks too much, but he isn’t exactly in fighting shape. He feels like his brain had been replaced with cotton balls for the night. Everything is fuzzy and he can’t remember exactly what they said, but he has the feeling that he wants to remember. 

He digs through the balls of paper in his bag, then goes through what he wrote in his notebook, but none of lyrics he wrote make much sense. It’s like he combined five different puzzles together and expected them to form one picture. He keeps the few verses he likes and puts the rest of the nonsense in the box under his bed. 

He showers and eats cereal with his brothers then leaves for school, meeting Aiko at the corner where their streets meet. She gives him a tupperware container of her lemon bars and he confesses her momentary, absolute love for her. She laughs and promises to keep it a secret from Jackal.

As they walk to the train station, Aiko looks up at him. She’s the shortest person Marui knows, standing at around 4’10” on a good day. Next to Oyama, she looks like an ant. 

“So I heard from Jackal, who heard from Kato, who said that you got high with the new kid during detention,” she says. 

“Yeah,” Marui says, not sure whether he’s embarrassed, ashamed, or neither. 

“And how was it?” Aiko asks, smiling.

“Damn you and your convincing smile.” Aiko’s smile grows until her gums are showing and her lips are stretched thin. With a small smile of his own as he recalls his time with Niou, Marui says, “It was fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "A Life Less Ordinary (Need A Little Help)" by Motion City Soundtrack.


	7. Chapter 7

The rules slowly crumble one by one, and Yagyuu gradually comes to the conclusion that Niou is a heartbreaker. Niou always leaves him wanting more, dragging out their kisses and moving his hands with lingering touches that make Yagyuu hot under the collar. Niou smirks like he know exactly what he’s doing when he lets down his hair, when he lets Yagyuu see the piercings in his hips, when he tilts his head to show his neck. Niou does not talk about himself, carefully choosing his words, always quick to change the subject with a coy smile or spread of his legs. Yagyuu feels like he’s fallen for a stranger.

On Monday, Niou comes down to the student council room with his piercings in. He subtly nods his head to whatever he’s listening to, shoulders slouched and hair tied back. The door locks with a click and the shades come down with the shutter of cheap plastic. Niou’s footsteps are inaudible, or maybe Yagyuu’s heart is just too damn loud. Niou sits on the desk, holding a lighter in one hand and a joint in the other, and smiles deviously. 

_I should get out_ , Yagyuu thinks when he steps between Niou’s legs, thighs pressed to the desk and fingers dug into Niou’s bony, pierced hips. Niou hums into the kiss, spreading Yagyuu’s mouth open with his pierced tongue and rolling the metal ball along Yagyuu’s lips and tongue.

_I’m in over my head_ , he thinks when Niou blows smoke into his face and offers him the joint. It clouds his mind and he can’t stop smiling when Niou lets down his hair. Yagyuu tangles his fingers into Niou’s hair, thick between his fingers despite the bleach and dye. Niou lets the joint dangle between them, hanging between his smiling lips.

_This is not good_ , he thinks when Niou whispers into his ear and asks if he wants to do anything other than kiss. Niou moves his hands down the curve of Yagyuu’s back and rests them on his ass, pulling Yagyuu closer and nipping at the spot under his jaw that makes Yagyuu weak at the knees. 

“I don’t feel comfortable doing more than this at school,” Yagyuu says. He can feels his skin flush a wild red. He feels like a swooning woman when Niou smirks.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Niou says, though Yagyuu is certain that is a lie until Niou goes on. “Last week you mentioned you needed help in math. You said you wanted me to look over some stuff with you, right?” Maybe it was still a lie. It is hard to tell with Niou.

“Right,” Yagyuu says. He swallows thickly, adjusts his glasses, and avoids Niou’s prying gaze. 

“But if you want to do more, we can.” Niou catches his thumbs on the belt in Yagyuu’s pants and tugs down slightly, just enough to wreck Yagyuu’s thoughts. Yagyuu looks at Niou and heat coils in his stomach. Yagyuu is hard. He wonders if Niou is. “Do you want that?” Niou asks.

“Perhaps.”

Niou smirks. “Well, I don’t want to do anything at school either. Last time I did, I got kicked out. So we can either go get a motel room or go to your house. And I don’t have money so you’d pay.”

Yagyuu does not mention that Niou forgot to add _his_ house to the list, but Yagyuu figures there is a reason to that and Yagyuu does not want to anger Niou by asking. 

“My house,” Yagyuu says, swallowing cotton spit and smoke. 

They prop open the windows before leaving together. They stand shoulder to shoulder on the train, so close but not close enough, and don’t talk on the walk from the station to Yagyuu’s apartment. Yagyuu resists the urge to grab Niou’s hand in the hallway of the apartment complex, and he completely represses the desire to tell Niou how he feels. 

The last rule stops him from saying something stupid, something he’ll regret, but just barely: if either of us develops feelings, it’s over. He’d rather have his heart broken at the mere sight of Niou than have nothing at all.

Niou looks around the apartment as Yagyuu leads him to his room in the back. Yagyuu tries not to focus too much on Niou’s reaction to his empty, bland room. The majority of his life has been focused on his studies and he does not feel the need to clutter his room with recreational based things, like posters of bands or sports equipment. Yagyuu shifts awkwardly once his bag is on the floor, then sits on his bed, looking at Niou and waiting for him to say something, do something. 

_Kiss me already_ , Yagyuu thinks. _Don’t make me ask._

“You want to go to university, right?” Niou asks.

“Yes...”

“Then we’ll study first. I don’t want to be the dick who makes you so horny you screw up your entire life plan.”

_Does this mean you care?_ Yagyuu can’t find the courage to ask. 

Niou sits on the floor and pulls out his books. Yagyuu ignores the tightness in his pants and joins him. Niou does not say anything when he sees Yagyuu’s math grades, which have dropped since he started this arrangement, not that they were good to begin with or anything. Niou scans the papers with purpose, then flips through their textbook.

“My class is behind yours, but I learned this last year,” Niou says. He does not sound smug or cocky. He points to a page in the book. “Do these examples. I’ll check them.”

“What exactly do you want to do after high school, Niou-kun?” Yagyuu asks.

“Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

Niou pulls out his iPod and sticks his headphones in. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying. You just won’t tell me.”

Niou does not respond. He taps the book and gives Yagyuu a pointed look. Yagyuu sighs and gets to work. 

Niou spends three hours helping Yagyuu through the old material he didn’t grasp and the new material he cannot comprehend. They don’t have sex and Niou leaves before Yagyuu’s family comes home. It’s hard to focus when Niou is so close, when he brushes their hands together by accident, when he has his piercings in. Maybe there is something to the whole bad boy thing. 

The next day, they do not stop by the student council room before going to Yagyuu’s house. Niou waits on Yagyuu’s bed while Yagyuu makes tea in the kitchen. They kiss on Yagyuu’s bed on top their books and discarded shirts, bodies lined up and pressed together with Niou on top. Niou smells like male-marketed soap, smoke, and cheap shampoo. Yagyuu thumbs at the piercings on Niou’s hips. Niou shifts to kiss down Yagyuu’s chests, his ribs straining against his lean muscles. Niou’s long legs move with his body and kick a textbook to the floor.

“We should stop,” Yagyuu says, but the strain against his zipper says otherwise. “My parents will be home soon.”

After Niou leaves, kissing him good-bye behind the security of the front door, Yagyuu locks himself in his bathroom and tugs down his pants. He feels like a boy in puberty when he works himself quickly, clinching his jaw to keep silent even though he knows he is alone. He can still feel Niou’s tongue on his neck, feel the metal of Niou’s piercings on his fingers, feel the lingering heat of Niou’s body on him. He comes into a tissue with Niou’s name on his lips.

They go on like that from now on, kissing and studying at Yagyuu’s. Every few days, they stay at school in the student council room and light up a joint, which they pass back and forth, blowing smoke and sucking from the other’s mouth until they’re high and smiling. Yagyuu tries to blow smoke rings like Niou, but he fails and that makes Niou laugh. His laugh makes Yagyuu hard. He kisses Niou’s neck, revels in the feeling of Niou’s hands on him, loses his mind at the press of Niou’s leg between thighs.

“Don’t,” Yagyuu says. “Not here.”

“Okay,” Niou says. He moves his leg and Yagyuu regrets his words. Niou makes up for it by letting Yagyuu knead his ass through his pants and doing that thing with his piercing that makes Yagyuu crazy. 

Physically, it’s amazing, far beyond Yagyuu’s preliminary expectations, and it has certainly confirmed Yagyuu’s belief that he is gay. But there are no feelings behind it except for lust and the primitive drive for sex. Niou only smiles into a kiss when it suits him, when he pulls the reigns and take control from Yagyuu, when Yagyuu fumbles with inexperience and Niou is laughing softly, when he teases without knowing what it does to Yagyuu’s heart.

Yagyuu does not know what he expects to change after their attempt to move to the next step. Sanada still texts him to confirm their homework assignments and test dates, Kirihara still skates through school grounds despite living under threat of having his skateboard taken again, and Yagyuu still runs the monthly student council meeting. It feels like more should have changed, but nothing has, except that sex is not nearly as heavy a matter as Yagyuu once thought it was and that he has felt Niou’s erection through layers of clothing multiple times.

Yagyuu’s next test grade is above the class average and is higher than anything he’s gotten in a math class since grade school. Niou kisses him in the bathroom after gym, breathing in deeply when he kisses under Yagyuu’s jaw, inhaling Yagyuu’s cologne. Niou’s hips roll firmly and Yagyuu wishes they were in his bed. If he knew this would be the reward for high test scores, he would be much more motivated in all of his studies.

The bell rings and Niou pulls away. “Damn it,” he curses, lips slick with saliva. “I have a test.”

“Go,” Yagyuu says, though he never pegged Niou for someone to panic over coming to class late. He’s certainly never cared before. They began this whole thing after Yagyuu caught him lighting up in the second floor bathroom.

“Continue this after school in your bed?” Niou asks with a sultry smirk, putting a hand to Yagyuu’s chest and playing with his tie. 

“My sister is sick,” Yagyuu says. “We can’t.”

“Shame.” Niou’s disappoint sounds sincere, but he doesn’t look sincere. He picks up his bag and heads for the door. “See you later, then.”

Yagyuu adjusts his shirt, tries to calm his racing heart, and thinks, _Yes, he is a heartbreaker._

.

No dates and no intervening with the other’s personal life. That was one of Niou’s many requirements for their situation—their relationship, if you could call it that—to proceed. Yet here they are on a Thursday afternoon after school, sitting in a booth of a cheap restaurant with burgers and fries. Niou dips his fries into his milkshake and puts so much ketchup on his burger that it drips out when he bites into it. He watches Yagyuu eat. Yagyuu does not say anything for some time. 

“Niou-kun, why are we here?” Yagyuu finally asks, breaking the uneasy silence. Niou looks at him blankly. Yagyuu adjusts his glasses and says, “I know that you asked me and I agreed, but I’m confused as to _why_ you asked me.” 

“Haven’t you ever gotten food with a friend?” Niou asks.

“Of course. This just seems different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It just seems…”

“This isn’t a date. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know this is not a date.”

But the way Niou takes Yagyuu’s fries without asking, the way he laughs at how Yagyuu wipes his mouth after every bite of his burger, the way he sinks down into his seat and knocks his feet against Yagyuu’s as he asks, “Wanna go back to your house?” makes it feel like a date.

Yagyuu’s parents are gone and so are Yagyuu’s inhibitions. Once the door to Yagyuu’s bedroom is closed and locked, Yagyuu presses Niou into the bed. He has never been on top of Niou, never taken control outside of kissing, and his heart beats rapidly in his chest at the sight of Niou beneath him. He kisses Niou like he wants to smother him and Niou hums into the kiss. They tug their ties loose, tossing them to the side before hands tangle into hair and hips press together.

Yagyuu quickly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side. Niou has never mocked him for his body, for his hairless chest or lack of prominent muscles. Niou kisses his neck, runs his hands over Yagyuu’s chest, fingers at Yagyuu’s belt. Niou’s hands are warm and his lips are wet. 

“Lie down on your back,” Niou says. “And give me your glasses.”

Yagyuu nods, then does as he’s told. He moves off Niou and lies down in the pillows. Niou takes his glasses and gently sets them on the nightstand next to the bed. 

“What now?” Yagyuu asks. “I’ve never—”

His words choke in his throat when Niou moves.

Niou straddles Yagyuu’s waist with a confidence that until meeting Niou, Yagyuu thought only existed in porn stars or the fabled person who has complete self confidence. Niou brings his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the side, moving to flex his muscles and stretch his skin in the most attractive, sexual way possible. The metal knobs on his hips shine under the light. His nipples stand erect and are the pinnacle of Yagyuu’s attention until Niou lets his hair down onto his shoulders. Niou licks his lips. He looks like pure sex.

“How?” Yagyuu asks in awe. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Niou says, cocking his head to the side in jest. He takes Yagyuu’s wrists and puts his hands onto Niou’s pierced hips. “Say ‘stop’ and I will.”

Niou leans down, covering Yagyuu’s body, his lips attaching to the skin on Yagyuu’s upper chest, his neck, his chin, and finally his lips. Yagyuu kisses like he’s desperate and Niou does nothing to slow the pace. He lets Yagyuu push his tongue into his mouth, lets him dig painfully into his hips, lets him make a complete mess of the situation Niou set up.

Then Niou moves his hips and Yagyuu can feel how hard Niou is behind his pants. Yagyuu gasps and Niou smiles, taking the chance to move down to Yagyuu’s neck and lick. He rocks his hips in steady a rhythm, arching his back to rub his chest against Yagyuu’s, moaning into skin when the slide of their groins hits him just right. Yagyuu is left in the dust, a panting mess just trying to keep up.

Niou’s lips drag against Yagyuu’s ear. “Can I take off your belt? I want to move your pants out of the way.”

“Y-yes.”

Niou kisses him quickly on the mouth and raises on his knees so he stands several inches above Yagyuu. He reaches down between them, making quick work of Yagyuu’s belt. Yagyuu lifts his hips when Niou pulls the belt free. Niou drags down the zipper of Yagyuu’s pants and tugs on his pants until they are around his knees. Yagyuu is too aroused to be embarrassed by his briefs or ask if Niou has a preference in underwear. His face and groin are on fire. Niou’s eyes are blazing with the same heat and Yagyuu does not feel so alone.

Niou waits until Yagyuu is watching to slowly unzip his pants and tug them down like he had Yagyuu’s. Niou’s erection is clearly visible against his boxer briefs and Yagyuu is so turned on that he nearly comes from the sight. Black hair runs down beneath the navy tented fabric. Niou takes off his pants completely, tossing them to the side, and hovers just above where Yagyuu wants him to sit. 

“What is it?” Niou asks, sultry smile at the ready. “See something you like?”

“I want to touch you,” Yagyuu says. His eyes are on Niou’s cock, hard and straining against thin cotton fabric. His mouth is thick. It’s hard to swallow. “Can I...?”

Niou settles back down, tilting his hips so their exposed underwear and barely covered cocks line up. “Do you want to touch me,” he asks, spreading his palms against Yagyuu’s chest and teasing his hips forward, “or do you want me to make you feel good?”

“I suppose I could take a raincheck,” Yagyuu says.

Niou smiles like the devil when he begins to move again. His hips are firm and the pressure from their groins radiates hot, white pleasure through Yagyuu’s body. Yagyuu cannot contain his moans, nor can Niou, who makes tiny, breathy noises into the hot skin of Yagyuu’s neck. Niou’s tongue is warm and wet that it almost distracts Yagyuu from the hardness pressed up against his cock, moving against him, pushing him closer to the edge. 

Yagyuu tangles a hand into Niou’s hair, steering his head so their lips collide. Yagyuu mouths desperately at Niou’s lips, tugs on his hair when Niou only smiles, looses what’s left of his breath when Niou gasps.

“Do that again,” Niou says. Yagyuu tugs gently on Niou’s hair and the rhythm of his hips falters. Niou moans. “Fuck, Yagyuu.”

Yagyuu likes the feeling of sweat rolling down Niou’s back, spine sharp and muscles rippling against his hand. He likes the damp sweat that matts Niou’s hair to his neck and forehead. He likes the confident roll of Niou’s hips that has Yagyuu desperate for more. He likes the noises coming out of Niou’s mouth. He likes _Niou_.

“I’m close,” Yagyuu says.

Niou does not stop. He clutches at Yagyuu’s shoulders and Yagyuu watches how his ass moves with his rolling hips. Yagyuu moans Niou’s name when he comes, hips jerking up against Niou’s. Niou kisses his neck, tongue and lips loose.

Niou doesn’t stop even after Yagyuu is finished coming. Yagyuu is too caught up in his high to be embarrassed by how quickly he came. He can’t think even think about anything because Niou still hasn’t come. Yagyuu wants to see his face, hear the sounds he makes. 

Yagyuu tugs on his hair and rolls up to meet Niou’s hips. Yagyuu is slightly less embarrassed when Niou follows a few minutes later. Niou shakes when he comes, his body curling and his voice disappearing. Niou ruts against Yagyuu for several moments before stalling. 

Niou’s face is soft and his pupils are enormous. His lips are slick on Yagyuu’s and his tongue is lazy. Niou hums into the kiss, content and fucked out. 

“I’m very, very glad you convinced me not to touch you,” Yagyuu says honestly.

Niou laughs. “You can try it next time, if you want. I’ll show you how.”

Niou kisses him again, but it’s not long enough. Then he jumps out of bed and drops his underwear. It’s so fast that Yagyuu can barely register, let alone appreciate Niou’s bare ass or the brief glimpse of his softening cock between his legs. Niou tosses his soiled underwear to the floor and tugs his pants up.

“Won’t that chafe?” Yagyuu asks.

“Not as bad as cum underwear,” Niou says, laughing easily. He runs a hand through his hair, slow and sexy with purpose, and crawls back onto the bed to kneel next to Yagyuu. “I’d sit naked, but you’d get hard again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Niou smiles again. Yagyuu has never seen Niou smile so much. Niou asks, “Want me to take yours off or are you going to turn into a shy virgin now?”

“Am I still a virgin?” Yagyuu asks.

Niou shrugs. “Depends. Do you think you are?”

“I’m confused by the question.”

“Like I’ve said before, there’s different types of sex. I consider myself to have lost my virginity when I was fourteen years old and my friend and I dry humped each other until we creamed our pants.”

“Like we just did?”

“Yeah. But I’m a lot better now than I was back then.” Niou smirks and Yagyuu turns red, confirming what Niou has just said. Niou goes on, “A lot of people say it’s only have sex when there’s penetration, but I think it’s stupid to limit sex to just penetration. What about lesbians, or transgendered people, or any person who doesn’t want to have penetrative sex? Even if you have had ‘sex,’ if it was a bad experience, you don’t have to count it.”

It never fails to surprise Yagyuu how mature Niou is about these things. Yagyuu has never thought about the concept of virginity. He hadn’t even thought about his own sexuality beyond the fact that he liked boys until he met Niou, who seems to accept people at face value regardless of their gender, sexuality, or lack there of. 

“What do you consider sex?” Yagyuu asks.

“Consensual orgasm through another person.”

“So we just had sex?”

“To me, yes. If you don’t think we did, then you don’t think we did. That’s up to you to decide.” Niou reaches to the side table and hands Yagyuu his glasses. “Do you want me to ditch your underwear or not?"

“I’ll take care of it in a few minutes,” Yagyuu says. He tugs his pants back up for the time being. “I think I will consider this to be sex.”

Niou kisses him slowly, almost tender, and pulls back to sit more comfortably. He puts a hand on Yagyuu’s chest and moves his fingers slowly, almost like he’s petting Yagyuu but not quite. Yagyuu smiles at him, adjusting his glasses, wondering if his adoration is obvious in his eyes. If Niou notices, he does not say anything, just continues to run lazily at Yagyuu’s bare skin.

Yagyuu studies Niou and asks, “What’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex? I can still ask, can’t I?”

“If you wanna know, I’ll tell you. I just won’t say names.” Niou runs a hand through his hair again, pushing it out of his face as he takes a moment to think about it. “Well, sucking dick in a school bathroom was weird. All of my other experiences were in a bed or on a sofa. I’m pretty conventional, surprisingly.”

“Surprisingly,” Yagyuu says, surprised because Niou is not a conventional person. “You’ve never even had sex in the bath?”

The change is not nearly as subtle as it should be for someone like Niou. He tightens up and the hand from his hair falls to his wrist, his thumb rubbing circles. His playful smile and the content look in his eyes is gone. Yagyuu does not notice.

“No, I haven’t,” Niou says. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” Yagyuu asks. “We don’t have to take one together. I can make tea while I wait for my turn. My tub is deep. It’s good for soaking. You could borrow my soap, if you don’t mind smelling like me.”

“No.”

“Why not? My parents won’t be home for a few more hours.” 

“I said no. I think I should go.”

“Why? Did I do something?” Yagyuu asks. “Was it something I said?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Niou says. He sits up and dangles his legs off the bed, but does not move to stand. He stays seated like that for several moments, breath deep and hands fisting the sheets. 

“You look anxious,” Yagyuu says. He feels like he’s treading thin ice. 

“Drop it, Yagyuu,” Niou says sharply.

“I won’t drop it. Something is wrong and it’s very obviously my fault. I want to know what I did. We were perfectly fine a minute ago.”

“My mother killed herself. She did it in a bathtub. Get it?” Niou’s voice is cold and short. “When I say drop it, _drop it_.”

Yagyuu sits up and puts his hands on Niou’s back, feeling him tense at the touch. Niou looks over his shoulder at him and Yagyuu feels that’s how they always are, Niou looking over his shoulder at Yagyuu like he’s an afterthought. 

“Don’t touch me,” Niou says. “Don’t tell anyone. And don’t bring it up if I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Promise.”

“Niou-kun—”

“ _Promise_. Or we’re never doing this again.”

“I promise,” Yagyuu says. 

Niou turns his head around. Yagyuu drops his hands and Niou stands, gathering his things to leave. He picks up his shirt, steps into his shoes as he buttons it up, and ties his hair up without issue. 

Niou checks his phone and smiles, warm and foreign and it hurts because Niou is not smiling because of him anymore. What could make Niou change so quickly? What could make Niou happy after admitting something like that?

“What is it?” Yagyuu asks.

“Marui got me a ticket to their show at the Circus.” Niou puts his phone in his pocket and just like that, the smile is gone.

“The Circus?”

“It’s a large underground party run by college students.”

“Are you going to the show?” Yagyuu asks. He knows plenty of people who like Zero to Hero, but he has never cared about someone’s music tastes until now. _So this is what seeing green feels like_ , he thinks. 

“Probably.” Niou checks his pockets for his phone. He looks at Yagyuu with a bored expression that is entirely fake. 

“Do you need me to show you out?” Yagyuu asks. His lips demand to be kissed one last time, or many more times so that there never is a last time. 

“No.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Niou-kun. If you need me, you can call me.” 

Yagyuu watches Niou leave. Niou’s underwear is still on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted a link on my tumblr (lahdolphin) to all of the songs of ZtH's first and second albums. It's under the tag "We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands." It links to spotify.


	8. Chapter 8

On Friday, Kato heads straight from school to her house. She shouts into the kitchen to tell her mother she’s home, runs upstairs into her room, and heads for her radio. It’s a shitty piece of shit (because that needs to be stressed) that sits on top of her dresser near her jewelry case. She switches on Pyrite 101, the illegal radio station run by a group of idiots who work at the music shop she gets her percussion gear from. She strips to her underwear in the middle of her cluttered room as she listens to them talk about what’s up in the underground music world.  

“ _—and remember tonight’s the big show_ ,” one of the guys say. His radio name is Zedd. 

“ _Eleven o’clock at the Circus_ ,” the sole girl says. Her radio persona is Krewella, or sometimes she’s called Crazy Kre, and she’s part of a growingly popular techno band with her radio costars. She’s the one who taught Kato how to play the drums back when Kato was in grade school. “ _ZtH comes on at midnight after some shit DJ plays his shtick.”_

 _“Price of administration is one ticket,”_ the third guy, Cobain, a classic rock junkie, says. “ _If you don’t know how to get one, you won’t get one. IDs checked at the door.”_

 _“Rumor is there’s some big news tonight so it’s worth the trip if you can score a ticket,”_ Krewella says. _“Remember kiddies, we mean the show, not acid. Tripping on acid leads to waking up in the men’s room at McDonalds at four in the morning without underwear.”_

Kato laughs out loud. 

“ _And in case you fuckers can’t remember how fucking magnificent Zero to Hero is, here’s a good one from their album_ ,” Cobain says. 

 _“Try not to fuck up the audio this time, Kre,”_ Zedd says.

 _“Suck my dick,”_ Krewella snaps. 

Kato turns up the volume as Dancing Shoes comes on. She hops into her bathroom, unsnapping her bra and stepping out of her underwear, and jumps into the shower. She scrubs off her makeup from school, makes a mohawk with her hair, and cups her breasts for no reason in particular other than she can. She shaves her pits and legs, applying generous amounts of sugar scrub to make her legs feel as smooth as a baby’s ass, then gets out.

She loves getting dressed up for shows. She likes the toned down looks she does for acoustics, but she also likes the striking makeup and punk look she gets to do for louder shows. And the Circus is notorious for being loud. Kato still doesn’t know how Yukimura got them the gig.

Well, she does know, but she doesn’t get it. Girly has too many friends. Apparently someone who graduated from their school last year joined the circle that runs the crazy party known as the Circus. It’s pretty famous amongst music junkies. Every month, the Circus hosts a party. Not everything that goes on there is legal and it’s crazy beyond sane understanding. If a band or DJ wants to get noticed, they have to make the Circus. Since Yukimura knows the guy who graduated, he was able to get them the prime spot on Friday night so they can release their new album in style. This is where they make it or break it.

 _Go big or go home_ , Kato thinks as she straightens her hair. She goes back into her room, dancing to a song from an obscure band she hasn’t heard before. She puts on a neon green sports bra and a pair of comfortable lace panties, then dives onto her bed for her phone. She sees a message from Urayama.

_Kre mentioned u (~￣▽￣)~_

Kato grins. _Shut the fuck up. For real?_

_she said she hopes u got some stuff to show tonight  
werent u listening?_

_I was in the shower. Wasn’t paying much attention_

_she called u her bby girl_

_If only I was gay._

_she said same thing_ _（⌒▽⌒）_

Kato jumps out of bed with more energy than before and goes into the bathroom to do her makeup. It gets hot on stage and makeup can be more annoying than it is good, but she still wings her eyeliner until it’s perfect. She forgoes her lips and eyelids.

She keeps dancing while she picks out her clothes, tossing things to the side without a second thought and holding others up for a moment of consideration before ditching it. This isn’t some gig at Yukimura’s or some college frat’s party. This is the Circus. This is the biggest show they’ve done. There’s tickets and everything. 

Tossing another shirt out of her closet, she decides to call Aiko. 

“Hey,” Aiko answers. “What’s up?” 

“Picking out clothes.”

Aiko laughs. “I’m helping Jackal right now too. He has nothing good.”

“What about that tight black short sleeve that shows off his arms?” Kato suggests. She tries to think about what Jackal owns. The boys in the band don’t own much more than tattered jeans and old shitty shirts of obscure bands, but there has to be something. “Doesn’t he have a pair of dark red skinny jeans?” she asks.

Aiko talks with her mouth away from the speaker but Kato can still hear. “Hey, babe, do you still have those dark red pants?”

Kato tosses a few more shirts to the side and waits for Aiko to come back to the conversation.

“He found them. He’s going into the bathroom now.”

“You two have seen each other naked how many times?” Kato laughs.

“He’s shy.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What should I wear? I really want to wear those tight black pants we found last month.”

“With the chunky combat boots?” 

“Yup.”

“Good choice.” Aiko hums in thought. “I got you a tank top for your birthday with a ribcage on it. That may look good. It dips down to your ribs under the arms, though.”

“I’m wearing a neon sports bra and I don’t care if people see it. And that tank _is_ easy to move in...” Kato digs through her closet and finds what Aiko described. She holds it up to her chest. “Ah, this’ll look good. Thanks.”

“No problem. You know, Krewella mentioned you on the radio today.”

“I know,” Kato says, gushing. “I should stop by and see her. We haven’t had a jam session in forever. You should come. We’re over due for cliché, invasive girl talk. We can talk about your sex life and my lack thereof.”

“I thought that you and Sanada had something going on,” Aiko says. 

“What? No way.” Kato takes the thin black tank top off its hanger and tosses it onto her bed next to her pants. “Hat’s fun to mess with but he’s not—he’s just not.”

“Oh, hang on, he’s done. That looks good, babe. What shoes, Kato?”

“Either some type of brown boot or some flat-ish tennis shoes. You know what I mean? That shit that’s between tennis shoes and flats? I don’t know what the fuck they’re called. You’re the fashionista, not me.”

“He only has three pairs of shoes and one of them is for school,” Aiko says. 

“My shoes matter too?” Jackal says, sounding exasperated. “You know Marui’s going to show up looking like shit.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to look bad.”

Jackal grumbles in the background.

“Hey, I gotta get dressed,” Kato says. “I’ll see you at Marui’s in a bit. I want to see what you’re wearing.”

“Don’t forgot what we were talking about,” Aiko says. “I’m not dropping it. That conversation is going to happen whether you want it to or not.”

“Whatever.”

Kato hangs up. She puts on two pairs of socks so she doesn’t get blisters from her boots, then spends five minutes fighting with her pants. Once she gets them over her hips, she’s comfortable as anything, but until she gets them up there, it’s like wrestling with Cerberus and Hades. 

She shouts in victory when she buttons them. She tugs on the tank top with the white ribcage and goes to her dresser to her jewelry box. Krewella, Zedd, and Cobain are talking again on air, discussing the big reveal that Yukimura promised when he booked the gig for them. 

 _“I bet my baby girl is coming out,”_ Krewella says. _“We all know she’s been craving my pussy for years.”_

 _“If anything, it’s that keyboard player that’s gay,”_ Cobain says. _“That kid looks like jailbait.”_

 _“He is jailbait,”_ Zedd says. _“Pretty sure he’s fourteen or something.”_

 _“How old are these motherfucking kids?”_ Cobain laughs.

 _“Gonna wiki this shit,”_ Krewella says. _“What the fuck? They don’t have a wiki? ZtH, if you guys are listening, you guys need to make yourself a website or something. Get your tech geek to do that shit for you. I need to stalk you more.”_

 _“Creep alert!”_ Zedd says. 

They play a track of police sirens and Kato rolls her eyes. 

She shoves aside the dressy bracelets and the spiked leather for simpler white and black bracelets. She stacks them on her left wrist, then ties a handmade hemp bracelet on her right wrist. Urayama made it for her after they had meet and she likes the way it looks when she’s got her sticks in her hands.

 _“Speaking of underaged hotties,”_ Krewella says, _“there’s only one kid on the street who can make a fake ID good enough to fool the guys at the Circus door. So make sure you can see the back of your hand. Fabric will be cut and gloves will be burned.”_

 _“Underaged attendees will be stamped on the hand,”_ Zedd explains. _“So no liquor for you. Drugs are free game, though, just don’t be a dick and be safe.”_

 _“And remember the drug system: YAP and NEFE,”_ Cobain says. 

 _“Yes to pot and no to everything fucking else,”_ Krewella says. _“I wonder why people say we’re a bad influence?_

 _“No fucking clue,”_ Cobain says. _“Now here’s a piece of gossip_ — _”_

 _“Shut up a play a damn song,”_ Zedd groans. 

Kato looks at herself in a mirror, ignoring the rest of their talk. She runs her hands over the curve of her waist and hips. She cups her breasts for good measure, nodding at the support her bra is giving her. Plus she looks bad ass and loves it. She grins.

She grabs her leather jacket, shoving her necessities into the many pockets. She runs through a checklist in her head, _Eyeliner, wallet, ID, keys... Shit. Where are my drumsticks?_

She smiles when she sees them sitting on her bed. She grabs them and heads for the door. 

.

They’ve always practiced at Marui’s house in the basement, which his parents reluctantly soundproofed after they realized his son and his friends were serious about the whole band thing. There’s white christmas lights and colorful paper lanterns strung up across the ceiling, and the walls are covered in pictures of the band and posters of their favorite musicians. It smells like old pizza and sweat, and there’s a strange stain on the sofa that Urayama swears is getting larger. It’s become like a second home to them. Kato doesn’t know how many nights she’s crashed there.

Kato sits on the ratty old fabric sofa with the weird stain on it, spinning her drumsticks and talking to Aiko. “None of them look like shit,” Kato says, mildly surprised. 

“I wish we had made a bet,” Aiko says. “I could have bought ingredients to make my lemon bars again with my winnings.”

“I learned a long time again to never bet against you.”

Aiko smiles. Kato laughs and rests her head on her best friend’s shoulder. Kato has been friends with Aiko since they were kids, long before they met the band, or Aiko and Jackal started dating. Girls gotta stick together, Kato always jokes and Aiko always laughs, high and bubbly, much more feminine than Kato’s snorting laugh. 

“You look good,” Kato says. Aiko is dressed in choppy jean shorts with gradient tights underneath and a comfortable black top. “I mean it,” Kato says when Aiko looks doubtful.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

“Don’t I always?”

Kato looks over her boys again. Marui is wearing a t-shirt with a funky design on it and comfy, but stylish, blue jeans with chunky bracelets on his wrists. Jackal is wearing what Kato had suggested, a black t-shirt and dark red skinny jeans. Oyama is wearing an open plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a plain white shirt underneath, and Urayama is wearing an obnoxiously bright hoodie.

They look like a real band. Then Oyama reaches into Urayama’s coat pocket to get a bag of candy. Kato rolls her eyes. They’re as close to a real band as they’ll ever get at the very least.

“So are we still playing what we decided on last week?” Kato asks, not moving her head off of Aiko, who doesn’t seem to mind that she’s become a pillow. “With the six songs we agreed on, we’re up to about twenty-one minutes, plus extra shit like introduction and crowd control. So that’d probably get us near thirty. And we want time to announce the new album.”

“Let’s plan on those six songs as the minimum,” Marui says. “What would we do with extra time if we get it?”

“We could run through some covers,” Jackal says. 

“Can we do one of my drum covers?” Kato asks. Everyone looks at her. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“What are drum covers?” Aiko asks.

“They’re the cover songs I play to warm up,” Kato says. “Usually I strip a popular song to it’s bare bones and play the melody on my drums. But they’re rarely on my standard drum set up, that’s why they’re only to warm up.”

“Sounds fun,” Aiko says.

“Kato, that’s genius!” Marui says. “Well, not as genius as me, but whatever. Which song?”

“Counting Stars by One Republic. Most of the original song is on drum anyways so it’s pretty simple. Oyama can play acoustic right at the beginning. We’ve done it before. Urayama needs to be on keyboard.”

“I know it,” Urayama says. “That songs rocks.”

“Does the song need set up?” Marui asks.

“I need to mess around with some dampers to adjust the sound output, but I can do it while you dick around with the crowd,” Kato says. “And I’ll need to set up a stationary tambourine before the show starts.”

Jackal’s phone beeps. “My dad’s here with the van. We need to pack our shit up now.” 

The band groans in unison. Jackal’s father lets them use the catering vans from the family restaurant to move their gear from place to place. But to get to the van, they need  to get everything up the stairs.

Aiko puts her finger on her nose, bumps Kato’s arm, and Kato does the same.

“Nose goes,” Kato says. “You guys can handle it.”

“Fuck you,” Marui says.

“Sorry. My dick won’t go up for twinks like you.”

.

The Circus is never held at the same location. Once it was held in a field an hour away from any town; a stage and all of the equipment appeared out of nowhere and the next day, by the time the sun was up, there was no sign of there ever being a massive party. That’s what the Circus is at it’s core, a massive party with good music, good booze, and good people. None of them have been to a Circus party before, but what they heard is wild.

The band shows up at the abandoned warehouse they’ll be playing at around nine. It’s rundown with broken windows and a massive hole in the roof, and there’s no proper road leading up to it. It’s pitch black by then and there is no obvious sign of life. It’s a ways out of town and Jackal’s father gives his son and his bandmates skeptical looks.

“This place looks empty,” he says. “Are you sure this is where you’re playing?”

“Yeah, there’s Yukimura’s car,” Jackal says. He points to the expensive, shiny black sports car parked to the side of the building. 

“Is that a clown at the front door?” Urayama asks. Marui assumes that “front door” means that white door that looks like his hall closet. There is someone standing there with a giant red afro and face makeup. The clown is dressed in bright colors and oversized pants. 

“Kids, I don’t know about this,” Jackal’s father says. 

“It’s fine,” Jackal says.

“If we die, you’ll know where to look for us,” Marui adds.

“Not helping, Marui,” Jackal says.

Jackal’s father sighs and the band pours out of the van through the side doors. Marui is just happy to not be shoved up next to Kato’s boxed drums and to not have Oyama’s guitar case half way up his ass. He rolls his shoulders, blows a bubble at the long series of cracks, and goes to the back to pull everything out. Marui takes out his phone, calls Yukimura, and holds it between his ear and shoulder so he can get a good grip on Urayama’s keyboard.

“Are you here?” Yukimura asks. 

“Yeah. Just got here. Unloading the van now.”

“Great. We’re inside with the staff. You need to come in through the front. Just make sure you show the tickets I gave you. Then they’ll stamp your hands.”

“They really don’t joke around about alcohol, do they?” Marui asks. “Shit, Kato, that was my foot!”

“It’s not my fault you have giant ass feet!” Kato shouts.

“Well, you know what they say about—”

“Don’t even go there, pervert.”

Marui grabs his phone, says, “We’ll be in in a minute,” and hangs up.

Once they have everything out of the van, they thank and say goodbye to Jackal’s father. He drives off on a dirt road, leaving dust in his wake. The band grabs hold of everything and begins to head inside. 

The clown at the front door is just as scary as any other clown Marui has ever seen. Urayama hides behind Oyama and no one blames him for acting like a child. The guy dressed as a clown is tall, albeit not as tall as Oyama, and buff. He must be the bouncer.

“Tickets and IDs,” the clown says, stretching out his hand.

The band hands the black and white ticket stubs, then shows their IDs one by one. The clown takes his time looking over the IDs, then reaches into his pocket, yanks on their arms, and puts a large stamp of an elephant on the back of their hands. The clown tears the tickets in half and shoves them into his other pocket. 

He opens the door to the warehouse for them.

“Enjoy the Circus.”

Then Aiko shows her ticket. Unlike the band’s, it’s not black and white. It’s red with black writing and looks like a normal carnival ticket.

“Sorry, but this won’t get you in until show time,” the clown says. 

“But she’s with us,” Jackal says, holding her hand. Kato steps up onto Aiko’s other side.

“Rules are rules. Black and white tickets get you in early. Regular tickets get in at eleven.”

Marui looks inside and spots a group of people in the distance. He hopes it’s Yukimura and the others because he shouts, “Hey, Yukimura and staff guys! Get your asses over here!”

Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi jog over. They’re followed by a group of people with blank white Venetian masks with holes at the eyes. Their lips are part of the mask and don’t move when they talk, which is just bout the creepiest thing Marui has seen, second only to the basement at school.

“What’s the problem?” Yukimura asks.

“Aiko doesn’t have a special ticket,” Kato says.

Yukimura looks at the staff in white masks. 

“No exceptions,” one of the members says. Urayama visibly cringes. Marui still doesn’t blame him. This is _weird_. 

“I know her. She’s cool,” one of the staff members says. He reaches up and pulls off his mask. Marui recognizes his face; it’s the guy who went to school with them and knew Yukimura. Marui doesn’t remember his name and he knows for a fact that he does not know Aiko because she pulls a confused face. 

“Alright,” the other members say.

Aiko hands over her ticket and holds out her hand to be stamped. 

“Follow us,” a staff member says. Yukimura’s friend smiles at them, then pulls his mask back down. 

The staff walks them through the warehouse which looks completely different on the inside. Professional grade lighting has been set up, complete with spotlights and colored lenses. A quickly built wooden stage runs along the far wall and a long bar is pushed into a corner. There are chairs and sofas scattered throughout, pressed up against the walls. The lights make Oyama’s white undershirt glow blue. 

They’re told to store their stuff in a room near the stage. Green tags are placed on their equipment to keep it separate from everyone else’s. 

“You go on at twelve,” one of the staff members says. “At quarter of, you set up. If you’re not ready, you don’t play at all.”

“We only have fifteen minutes to set up?” Urayama asks.

“You use our amps and mics. Just plug in your instruments,” another one says.

“We’ll be ready,” Jackal reassures them. 

The Circus is run a certain way without fail, which is what makes it so elite and exclusive. Starting at elven, a band or DJ will play every hour for half an hour. Twelve and one are considered prime times. If the crowd likes a group enough, they’ll be allowed to play for another fifteen minutes. If not, a DJ from the Circus will take over. The last group starts at four and everyone is forced out at five thirty, no exceptions.

The staff leaves them to hang out until their play time, telling them to stay out of trouble and to leave the electrical equipment alone. They settle onto one of the sofas, Aiko on Jackal’s lap and Kato on Urayama’s. Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi go to the bar and come back with drinks in glass bottles.

“Wait, you’re underage,” Marui says. “How’d you get past the clown at the door? They checked IDs.”

“Akaya’s friend makes fake IDs,” Yukimura says. “It’s what I always use to get liquor for my parties. I’d buy you something to take the edge off, but we’d all get kicked out.”

Yanagi puts a finger to his lips. “Do try to be quiet about it.”

“I still can’t believe you drink, Hat,” Kato says, kicking Sanada’s ankle. Sanada grumbles and sips at his drink. “Aw, are you blushing?”

“No,” Sanada says.

“You totally are, Hat.”

More of the acts begin to show up and join them, introducing themselves and talking about what they’re playing. They’re playing with big names and new names that have taken the underground music world by storm. It’s intimidating and ego boosting at the same time. Marui doesn’t know whether to hold his head high in pride or feel embarrassed that all the other acts are old enough to drink when he isn’t.

Marui checks his phone as more people with black tickets begin to show up. He sends a text to Niou.

_You still coming?_

_yeah_

_Cool_

Marui grins. He wonders what Niou’s reaction to the new album will be. He should sign a copy and give it to Niou personally at school on Monday. On the other hand, Niou would probably want to listen to the full album as soon as possible. He can always get Niou to bring it to school on Monday for him to sign. 

“Earth to Marui,” Jackal says, snapping his fingers in front of Marui’s dazed face.

Marui jerks back to attention and everyone laughs. He blows a bubble, rolling his eyes.

People with black tickets poor in in massive numbers around ten thirty. One of the Circus DJs gets on stage and plays upbeat, catchy music with heavy bass and heart stopping drops. It’s fundamentally different from the carefully put together playlists Yanagi does. This music is live and unexpected, and it controls the energy of the crowd without trying. It has Aiko jumping off Jackal’s lap and dragging him into the crowd to dance. It has Kato dancing in Urayama’s lap until Urayama pushes her into the open spot on the sofa. It has Marui in a permanent state of high energy and wide smiles.

The line wraps around the warehouse and when it’s finally eleven, people come in in groups that put the early comers to shame. The first act is a DJ duo which takes the stage at eleven sharp. They’re nothing special, like the people on Pyrite 101 expected, but they’re still good. 

Kirihara shows up two songs into the show with Hiyoshi and Zaizen, each of them holding drinks. Kirihara is tight shirt with strange colored pants; Marui can’t tell exactly what color under the flashing lights that twist natural colors until they glow.

“You actually look cool,” Kato says to Kirihara. “Nothing like the twelve year old wannabe punk you usually look like.”

Kirihara flips her off. 

“Wait, did you three noobs get past the bouncer?” Kato asks. 

Kirihara grins. “Zaizen makes the best fakes.”

Yukimura lifts his drink in Zaizen’s direction. Kato grumbles.

“You don’t even drink beer, Kato,” Oyama says. “And you swore off shots after spring break last year.”

“Doesn’t mean I want a baby like Seaweed-Head to drink around me when I can’t,” she says. “I wonder if they have strawberry wine…”

Kirihara and his friends pull up a sofa, but don’t join in on their conversations. Kirihara laughs loudly and talks to his friends about skateboards, or something that sounds like skateboards. It’s hard to hear over the music. It’s loud, deafeningly so, and Marui loves it.

The DJ duo doesn’t get an extension and Urayama mentions that Krewella didn’t think they would be that good. A DJ from the Circus staff takes over and the band goes to set up. Marui helps Urayama bring his keyboard onto the stage, and then looks out over the crowd. There has to be at least three hundred people here, maybe more, and more people keep coming in every minute. He spots a head of white hair standing near the stairs to the stage and heads over to see if he thinks it is. He hopes it’s who he thinks it is.

He isn’t disappointed.

“How the hell did you find me?” Marui asks. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile when he stops in front of Niou. 

“Your hair is easy to spot, even with these lights,” Niou says.  “And your band is scheduled to play at midnight so I figured you’d be setting up.”

“My hair? You’re one to talk. You look like an old man.”

“Oh really?” 

Niou grins and Marui laughs. Niou is the farthest thing from an old man. Old men don’t have piercings on their face, or piercings over tight skin on slim hips, or rate an eleven on a scale made to ten because of their ass. Niou looks to the side at the crowd and Marui looks down at Niou’s body. Niou’s jean are tight and flatter him, drawing attention to his ass and hips, and his shirt shows off his long arms. 

“Marui!” Jackal calls from the stage. “Get your ass up here. We play in one minute.”

Marui smiles at Niou and says, “Just wait until the end. You’re going to lose your shit.”

“If I don’t, you owe me.”

“I’ll treat you to burgers.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Marui jogs up the steps to the stage and gets in place. He can’t see Niou in the crowd of hundreds. It’s probably better that way. Niou has a tendency to draw his attention. 

The lights are blinding and burning, and he can feel the sweat on his brow already. There’s so many people screaming for them, screaming for them to hurry the hell up and play. He’s never seen so many people from the stage view before. He hopes his voice comes out.

Marui looks back over his shoulder at his bandmates, all in place for the first song, and grips the mic. The DJ cuts off the music and Marui speaks into the mic, addressing the crowd, “We’ve only got thirty minutes so I’m going to shut the hell up so you guys can hear some music. We’re Zero to Hero and you better remember our name by the end of this.”

The crowd roars it’s approval.

Marui looks over his shoulder and they all look at each other, coming in on Marui’s count, tapped out by his foot. Oyama and Jackal come in at the same time. It’s a new song that didn’t make the cut for the album like so many others that they play. 

Urayama comes in on his keyboard, followed by Oyama on his guitar and Marui singing, then he rest of the band as the lyrics progress. 

_“I let it ride on a bad bet._   
_I doubled down on a sinking ship._   
_I need a second to catch my breath._   
_Do you want me,_   
_Or do you want me dead?”_

The beat picks up and Marui begins to smile. 

_“Oh, give it up for at least a second._   
_I'm getting sick of your bullshit attitude,_   
_And how you walk around like you shine brighter,_   
_It's killing me,_   
_So what do you say?_   
_Do you want me,_   
_Or do you want me dead?”_

No one in the crowd knows the lyrics, but they dance to the song and nod their head to the beat. Marui should feel pressured by the sheer size of the crowd, but it only drives him and his bandmates higher. Oyama and Marui switch off in the chorus so the lyrics come out without breaks. Oyama brings his voice up in pitch, matching Marui’s natural octave, making the alternation almost impossible to identify. 

_“Trigger-happy at harbor side. You’re taking shots at the strangers passing.”_

_“There's no such thing as a perfect crime,”_ Oyama sings.

Marui comes in without pause, _“Don't play that, you’ve said it enough ‘cause you want me, or you want me dead.”_

By the last chorus, Marui and Oyama are singing in round, Marui bouncing with energy along with the crowd. He laughs at the end of the song, addressing the crowd again to give time for Urayama to switch instruments, “Okay, I promise we’ll be playing shit that you’ll all know for the rest of night.”

The time flies when they play. Marui laughs with the crowd between songs, keeping their mood up. They picked their most upbeat songs for this gig and it shows in the crowd, in the way they dance and jump with the music. Seeing nearly three hundred people jumping to his songs, nearly one hundred of them singing along is mind blowing. Marui doesn’t even realize he’s finished the sixth song and they’re at the time limit until Kato bangs her snare and says, “Yo, Marui! Are you deaf?”

The crowd hears and laughs. 

Marui looks off to the side and sees a man in a white mask give them a thumbs up. So they have fifteen more minutes. Kato runs to the side to grab another drum that would get in the way most of the time, except it’s necessary for her drum covers. Marui grins and grabs the mic.

“So some of you may know that we’re supposed to announce something big tonight,” he says. “Well, none of us are secretly superheroes and we’re not involved in a big government scandal. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re not funny,” Jackal groans in to her mic.

“Shut up, I’m hilarious.”

“Can I say it?” Urayama asks. “I want to say it.”

“We agreed I would,” Marui says.

“Too bad, I wanna do it. Sorry, Marui.” 

Urayama runs up to the front of the stage and grabs Marui’s mic, pushing him to the side with a bump of his hip. Urayama is a natural crowd pleaser, probably more natural than Marui, who thinks of what he says before hand. Urayama just talks and sometimes it’s word vomit, but other times it’s brilliant.

“As of tonight, our new album, Bigger, Longer and Uncut is officially on sale!” Urayama says and the crowd is so loud it hurts their ears. “Our friend-manager-person has them in the trunk of his car, which is kinda sketchy but stuff happens and we’re broke high schoolers. You can buy them as soon as we get off stage.”

Marui presses close to Urayama and speaks into the mic, “Hey, guys, get your asses up here so people can see you and we aren’t harassed.”

Yukimura and Yanagi grab Sanada, each taking hold of one of his wrists, and come up onto the stage. Yanagi stands next to Yukimura on the front of the stage while Sanada lingers farther back. Kato makes faces at Sanada and Sanada crosses his arms, too dignified and not drunk enough to return her faces.

Yukimura takes the microphone from Marui and says, “We’re located in the black sports car outside. I’ve already talked to the staff and you’ll be able to leave and come back in as long as you have proof that you left to see us. So bring a camera phone.”

Kato taps her sticks together. “Now get your nonmusical asses off our stage. Especially you, Hat.”

“Are you eating now?” Jackal says, close enough to his mic for everyone to hear.

Oyama shrugs and puts more caramel candy in his mouth. “I was hungry.”

Marui hits his hip against Urayama’s and says, “Get back on your keyboard so Kato can fuck some shit up.”

Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi vacate the stage and Urayama goes to stand in front of his keyboard. Marui double checks to make sure Kato has set up and Oyama has his acoustic; Jackal has moved to the side with nothing to do for the song. She gives him a thumbs up.

“Calm down so we can play,” Marui says and the crowd shuts up. “Wow. I have power up here. I like it.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jackal says. 

“It’s already big enough,” Kato agrees.

Marui rolls his eyes and gets back into place, rolling between the front and back of his feet until he’s comfortable. “So we’ve got something new to try,” Marui says, “and we hope this doesn’t blow up in our face. No pressure, Kato, but don’t mess up.”

“Says Mr. My-Voice-Cracked-Two-Songs-Ago,” Kato says.

“Well, we know I won’t be messing up because I’m doing shit this song,” Jackal says.

Kato taps them in. Oyama comes in on his acoustic and Marui comes in singing.

_“Lately I’ve been, I’ve been losing sleep,_   
_Dreaming about the things that we could be,_   
_But baby, I’ve been, I’ve been prayin' hard,_   
_Said no more counting dollars,_   
_We'll be counting stars,_   
_Yeah, we'll be counting stars.”_

Kato comes in and plays the harmony on her drums, completely overwhelming Urayama’s keyboard. She switches between her drums perfectly, hitting her snares and symbols and her tambourine with perfect timing to recreate the song. Marui turns back, swiveling the mic with him, and watches her toss and twirl her drumsticks between notes. She catches his eye and smiles.

Five years ago, he never thought he would see her still standing, still alive and playing and smiling like that. 

_“Take that money_   
_Watch it burn._   
_Sing in the river_   
_The lessons I learned._

_“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”_

Marui stops singing and Kato hits the last note with perfect timing. 

Kato’s arms shoot up into the air and she shouts in victory. Urayama goes behind the drums to give her a giant hug while Jackal helps more stuff away from her drum set. Marui plays the crowd, smoothing over the transition from Kato’s drum cover to their last two songs. He wants to stay up on that stage forever, they all do, but the staff in the white mask gestures for them to get off so the next group can set up. The crowd groans when they jump up to the front of the stage and bow like it’s a play, and they can already see people leaving, hopefully to meet Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi outside.

They pack up their stuff, lingering in the storage room to regain their energy, then leave to go find people they know. People shout at them and Marui eats up the attention. There is no better feeling than the high after a show. It’s like he could do anything. 

They bump into Kirihara, Hiyoshi and Zaizen, who drag Urayama and Oyama to dance. Kirihara is more than tipsy and clings to Hiyoshi for balance, even if his lack of balance seems forced. Kirihara isn’t an annoying drunk; he gets emotional sometimes and likes to do skateboard tricks that could break his neck, but he’s not annoying or clingy. Marui’s too strung out on his after show high to care or ponder Kirihara’s intentions. 

Kato jumps onto Jackal’s back when his phone beeps. “Hey, Aiko? Where are you?” Jackal asks. There’s a pause. “Oh, okay. See you in a bit.”

“What’s up?” Kato asks. 

“Aiko is helping sell CDs. Yukimura said he’s glad we brought as many as we did.”

“We brought three hundred, right?” Marui says. That had been a hopeful estimation a few weeks ago. They printed off a thousand total for the first run.

“He says with what we’re selling here and what we’ll get from school, and Akaya’s friend’s schools, we’ll need to make more,” Jackal says.

“Fuck yeah!” Kato says. “That’s awesome. I can finally get my baby some proper polish. And I know Urayama wants a bone pick or something badass like that.”

“I’m gonna go out and help out outside.” Jackal sets Kato on the ground and she pouts. Jackal runs off.

Kato pokes Marui’s shoulder, saying, “Hey, hottie with a body at ten.”

Marui turns and sees Niou. When he looks back at Kato to ask if she’s okay, she’s already gone. Kato is the best wingman. Niou approaches and stops in front of Marui. 

“So?” Marui prompts. “How kick ass was it?”

“It was alright.” Niou shrugs, then smiles knowingly at Marui.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Marui says. “You owe me burgers.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What, you don’t want to get burgers with me?”

Niou rolls his eyes. Marui wishes he had answered.

Another band has taken the stage, one that Marui talked to before people began to show up. Marui loves their work and looks away from Niou to watch them as they switch songs. The band has been around a little longer than Zero to Hero and Marui has followed them since their start up. Kato and he have a mutual crush on the female singer.

“I love this song,” Marui says, rocking his body to the beat. “I wanna dance.”

“Then go dance,” Niou says.

“No way in hell I’m going in there without someone I know.” Marui looks at the insane crowd of dancers. He’s never seen so many people dancing in one place before.

“Do you want me to go with you or something?” It’s probably sarcastic, or a witty line, definitely not a serious offer, but Marui doesn’t care.

Marui grins like a kid on Christmas. He takes Niou by the wrist and drags him into the crowd until they find a spot to dance, pressed close together in the mob and moving with the song. Marui sings with wild abandon and Niou moves with a surprising amount of freedom, though his movements still seem constricted compared to Marui. He watches the way Niou’s hips tilt, the way his arms flex with every movement, the way his shirt comes up when he raises his arms, the way he lets the music take over his body.

Few people appreciate music the way Marui does. Niou is one of the few.

Marui presses closer when the song changes. Niou slips seamlessly into a new set of movements that compliment the change in mood and beat. Marui puts a hand on Niou’s hip and the other in the air, singing along with the chorus. Niou smiles, returning the gesture by fisting Marui’s shirt between his fingers near his ribs. Niou’s other hand joins Marui’s in the air and the hundreds of others up along side theirs. 

They move closer. Marui can feel his hair move with his head, can feel Niou tug up his shirt several inches before letting go and putting a hand on the back of Marui’s neck. Niou’s palm is on Marui’s hot skin and his fingers are in the bottom of his hair, playing with it with gentle care that doesn’t match his frenzied dance moves. Marui brings his arm down, gripping Niou’s hips with both hands, grinding into him, leaning back to arch his spine and laughing when Niou supports him. Niou pulls him closer; his hand moves up into Marui’s hair completely and the other presses into his back. 

Closer still when the song changes again, slower, more sexual. It’s not close enough. They’re not close enough. Marui looks up and locks onto Niou’s eyes, watching him smirk and return the gaze. Their movements become more controlled and focused on their hips, moving slowly like waves. Marui slides his hands, slipping them into Niou’s back pockets, pulling him closer still. Marui wants to compliment his dancing and his ass, wants to lean up and kiss him, wants to see if his piercings are sensitive on his hips. More than anything, he wants to hear that voice.

Suddenly and without warning, the music stops and the crowd roars. Has the band finished their set? 

Niou seems as taken back as Marui, if not more, like he’s suddenly aware of what they were doing and where they are. Niou takes a step back, his lingering heat driving Marui mad. Niou looks around. Marui hears him mutter, “Shit, there’s a lot of people.”

Marui reaches out to grab Niou’s wrist, but stops. Niou doesn’t look like he wants to be touched. He recognizes the internalized panic in his eyes. Kato got that look whenever someone mentioned suicide in junior high.

The band keeps playing, apparently getting to green light to play for an extra fifteen minutes. 

“Do you want to go?” Marui asks over the music. “Most people will move if you say something, but it’s kinda loud and some people are asses.”

“Whatever.” Niou has a mask on, like he doesn’t care, and shrugs. Marui doesn’t say anything about it. 

Marui begins to make his way through the crowd, trying to avoid hitting people with his shoulders and elbows while still making room for Niou to get through behind him. It takes a few minutes to reach the edge of the mob, which has grown since they entered. Niou lets out a long breathe when they’re not surrounded.

“Wanna smoke with me?” Niou asks. 

“I would definitely take you up on that offer, but Jackal’s dad is coming to get us in a few hours and I don’t want to smell like pot,” Marui says. “Next time.”

Niou shoves his hands into his pockets.

“If you need anything,” Marui goes on, “let me know. My phone’s in my pocket.”

Niou disappears towards the bathroom.

Marui double checks that his phone is in his pocket, then goes back to the dance floor. When the music is this good, he doesn’t care if he looks like an idiot or not. He just wants to dance. Niou doesn’t call and Marui doesn’t see him for the rest of the night. 

.

Jackal and Aiko sit on the hood of Yukimura’s car, which usually agitates Yukimura, who is too busy handling cash and CDs to care. Yukimura handles sales, while Yanagi counts money and hands off CDs to Yukimura, and Yanagi gives the money to Sanada for safe keeping. Some people are drunk and Sanada has a practice wooden kendo sword in the backseat just in case. 

They can hear every word of the tracks playing inside. Jackal dances to the rhythm, moving back and forth and tugging Aiko with him so they dance together like they’re in a bad musical movie. Yukimura dances while the line shuffles forward slowly. Yanagi’s phone rings and by some miracle he hears it over the mind numbing bass from inside.

“Akaya?” Yanagi answers. They all stop what they’re doing to listen in. They’ve all come to think of Kirihara has a stupid younger brother over the years. “Are you alright? Why are you calling?”

There’s a lengthy pause, then Yanagi sighs. “We talked about this. Are you drunk?” Another pause. “A little? I believe you meant to say a lot. We’ll drive you and your friends home. Have fun. Don’t take any pills.”

Yanagi hangs up.

“What was that about?” Sanada asks.

“Akaya remembered that his friends wanted to buy a large amount of CDs to sell at their schools,” Yanagi says. “Only we talked about this several weeks ago after we began printing. We placed aside two hundred for them, one hundred for each friend.”

“I hope he hasn’t taken anything tonight,” Yukimura says. He takes money from the next person in line and trades it to Yanagi for a CD. “Akaya and ecstasy would not be a good combination.”

“Just pray he didn’t take acid or LSD,” Sanada grumbles.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Jackal says. “We would find him half dead in a ditch.”

Aiko puts her hands up into the air to stretch and Jackal wraps an arm around her, suddenly pulling her towards him. She lets out a surprised yelp when he kisses her neck.

“Stop being cute,” Yukimura says with a teasing smile. 

“Babe, stop,” Aiko says. “Not in public.”

Jackal keeps his arm around her, but stops kissing her neck. “Sorry. I’m all worked up from the show.” He nuzzles her neck, breathing in her perfume and sweat, smiling and mumbling something in Portuguese. 

“When we get home, babe,” Aiko says softly, rubbing his thigh with her hand. He grabs her hand in his, threading their fingers together. He says something else in Portuguese and she smiles. “Love you too, babe.”

If it was anyone else, Sanada would have been awkward. By this point, he is desensitized to the two. Everyone in their gang is.

“Speaking of the show, where’s Kato?” Aiko asks in a change of topic. “I haven’t seen her since earlier. I’m worried.”

“She texted me and said she found Kre, whoever that is,” Sanada says. 

“Oh, she found Krewella? Then she’s fine,” Aiko says. Krewella may talk crazy on air, but Aiko’s meet her in real life and Krewella, which isn’t even her real name, is smart enough to take care of Kato at a party this size. 

“Is that her ex?” Sanada asks.

“No.” Aiko smiles. “Why do you ask?”

“Do not look at me with that smile.”

“That smiles makes any man reveal his secrets,” Yukimura laughs. “Leave Genichirou alone for tonight, Aiko. We talked about girls the whole way over here and he looked ready to die in the back seat.”

“It’s true,” Yanagi says.

Sanada pulls down his baseball cap to cover his face.

Aiko’s phone beeps in her pocket and she pulls it out to see a text from Kato. Speak of the devil. 

_First, Marui and SNK danced like they’re having sex. Kinda hot. Not ashamed.  
Second, SH wants to bone his best friend. He’s so obvious. Also kinda hot. _

Aiko loves Kato, but she does not understand why she has to abbreviate her ridiculous nicknames in text form. Seconds after the thought passes her mind, Kato sends another text, like she knows exactly what Aiko is thinking. 

_SNK is Stoner New Kid.  
SH is Seaweed-Head._

_Niou_ , Aiko thinks. _And Kirihara._

“What’s going on?” Jackal asks.

“Nothing,” Aiko says. “Girl talk.”

.

When Kirihara spots him, Zaizen is covered in glow sticks and grinding up a girl. Her breasts are squished against his chest, and her hands are in his back pockets. Her hips are like liquid and her lips are neon. The bright color is branded on Zaizen’s check, smeared in one place and the exact shape of plump lips at another. Kirihara feels turned on just watching. Then again, he’s a teenager and he can get turned on by almost anything.

Zaizen isn’t the type to enjoy a place like this. If it weren’t for the music and the cushion of alcohol, Zaizen would have bailed after getting there, which had been quite a feat. The three of them had crammed onto Zaizen’s tiny motorcycle, hoping off when the road turned to dirt and walking, leaving the bike heavily chained to a tree a few miles away. 

Hiyoshi slides up next to Kirihara, drawing his attention away from how close his friend is to that girl. Hiyoshi hands him another bottle of beer, and Kirihara laughs.

“Dude, if I drink anymore I’m gonna puke,” Kirihara says. Hiyoshi pushes it into his hand anyways. Kirihara gives in and drinks. “Where’re the others?”

“They went to get some water and sit. Oyama had candy.”

Kirihara nods.

He still doesn't know why Hiyoshi is here. Hiyoshi likes Zero to Hero, but this is less his crowd than it is Zaizen’s, who provided half the minors present with their fake IDs. 

Kirihara looks at Hiyoshi, noting the way his head nods to the music. “Wanna dance?” Kirihara asks.

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes. “No thanks. I don’t dance with idiots.”

“Your loss,” Kirihara says, taking another swing before shoving the bottle back into Hiyoshi’s hand. He’s a little drunk so it takes a few times to find Hiyoshi’s hand. “My ass and dance moves are _magic_.”

Hiyoshi snorts.

Kirihara heads towards the nearest group of girls. They’re older than him, probably university students, and they greet him with a loud, high-pitched holler. They’re half naked, wearing bright colors and bras, and two of them sandwich him. They grin at him, then at each other over his shoulder. They smell like sweat, but they’re hot and pressed closer than the girl on Zaizen, and the alcohol is hot like lava in his veins. 

He puts his hands on the hips belonging to the girl in front of him, pulling her closer. She closes her eyes as she dances, a little too drunk to be coordinated or attractive. The music buzzes through him as he rocks back and forth. The girl behind him says something and he laughs, not sure what she said, but he knows it’s funny because she’s smiling when he turns around to look at her. She comes up to his shoulder blades, and her breasts prevent her from getting closer than she is. Those things can’t be real, can they?

“You’re cute,” the girl in front of him says between songs, when the DJ is blowing off time. 

“He’s _hot_ ,” the other girl corrects. “Like, really, totally fuckable.”

The girl in the front laughs. Her voice is muffled by the start of a heart stopping, heavy bass song with drops that make Kirihara’s chest tight. He feels their hands lacing together at his sides before he sees them. They laugh, drunk and happy and high. 

“I’m Hina.”

“And I’mmm Chiyoko.”

“Akaya.”

“Even your name is hot.”

If he looks down, he can see down her shirt.

Kirihara looks over at Hiyoshi, who is watching. Hiyoshi raises his bottle to Kirihara, like he’s saying _go get ‘em_ , then he looks away.  Kirihara doesn’t know when he started looking at Hiyoshi, or when he cared. It’s the alcohol, he tells himself. It’s the alcohol, the same alcohol that makes his head swim and the girls prettier than they probably are, the same alcohol that has him dancing like an idiot with strangers when he shouldn’t be.

The girl in front of him slides a hand into his hair, drawing his attention away from Hiyoshi and back to her, and pulls him down to kiss her. Her lips taste like strawberry liquor and bitter like a chewed up pill. She’s drunk, she’s high, she’s got a tongue piercing. Kirihara kisses back. 

Kirihara focuses on the breasts on his back, on the hands that are no loner by his sides. A hand slides onto his hip from behind, pressing into his growing erection, and the girl smiles. She grinds forward, pushing the hand harder against his groin. Kirihara’s eyes slide shut and he rolls with it. 

“We came in a car,” one of them says. He can’t tell who is talking at this point.

“Wanna join us?” another asks. “‘cause we’re gonna go fuck even if you don’t wanna.”

Kirihara is hard. But he can hear Kato’s voice in the back of his head telling him that ignore his dick and get away.

Kirihara doesn’t trust his mouth to not end up on theirs, so he breaks away and goes towards Hiyoshi. They shout at him, but he ignores his dick and the voice in his head. He stops in front of Hiyoshi, taking his beer, and downing it in one go.

“You’re not going to hook up with them?” Hiyoshi asks. He’s far more sober than Kirihara. He looks at Kirihara’s crotch, not even trying to be subtle. Kirihara still doesn’t notice. “I didn’t think you’d pass up a threesome with college girls.”

“They’re drunk, or high, or both,” Kirihara says, frowning. “That’s rape.”

Hiyoshi is stunned into silence for several moments. “I didn’t think you would ever say something as smart as that,” he finally says. It sounds like praise, but Kirihara is drunk and probably misheard. 

“Huh?” Kirihara responds. 

“Idiot. Let’s find Zaizen and make sure he’s not tripping balls.”

Kirihara leans on Hiyoshi as they walk, using him for support even if he could deal without it. Hiyoshi is warmer than he looks, and his arms are tight against he long sleeve he’s wearing. Kirihara makes up excuses for leaning on him, but that’s all they are, excuses.

“‘sides, they were old,” Kirihara says.

“I guess?” Hiyoshi replies, obviously not sure what to say.

“And they were sexy.” 

“You said so yourself, it would have been rape.”

“You’re sexier.” Kirihara looks at Hiyoshi, who goes stiff. He adds, ”No homo.”

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes.

 _Total homo_ , Kirihara thinks. 

.

At the end of the night, Oyama carries Urayama out of the warehouse on his back. Urayama grumbles and complains about his stomach, saying his tummy hurts from too much sugar and that he regrets nothing. Oyama chuckles when Urayama begins to babble sugar coma nonsense. He helps Urayama into the front seat of Jackal’s father’s van so that he doesn’t get completely car sick on the lengthy drive back.

“I’ll go and find the others, Kuwahara-san,” Oyama says. “Then we can get our instruments.”

Marui and Kato come out together, arguing about something or another. Jackal and Aiko are the last to show up, coming from the direction of Yukimura’s car. It takes thirty minutes to get their equipment to the van because they have to go out through the back since people are still dancing by five. Once the van is loaded and the doors are closed, Jackal’s father turns around to look at them.

“How did the—oh, never mind,” he says.

Urayama is asleep in the front seat, Marui is lying down with his head on Oyama’s lap, Oyama has his head against the window, Kato is lying down against her drum kit, and Jackal and Aiko are talking softly to one another.

Jackal’s father sighs, turns on the van, and drives away from the Circus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs are “Do You Want Me (Dead?)” by All Time Low, and “Counting Stars” by One Republic. The drum cover I had in mind was by COOP3RDRUMM3R on youtube.


	9. Chapter 9

Urayama wakes up an hour before his parents to go on his morning run. He found out a long time ago that there are two things that control his ADHD: running and music. Combining the two works better than anything else. He listens to his favorite playlist as he runs, ignoring the burn in his legs from the week long break for recording that he hasn’t quite worked off yet. (Some of that burn may be from Oyama’s tendency to share his candy, but Urayama doesn’t want to blame candy for his laziness.) He pushes past his usual distance, going an extra ten minutes and another mile, before turning around to head back home. 

“Shiita, leave a note next time,” his mother says when he comes through the door. 

“Sorry, mom,” Urayama replies. “Not used to you being home.”

His parents work a lot. Oyama’s do too. It’s simple and complicated at the same time.

“I’m making pancakes,” his mother says from the kitchen. “Tell Kenta-kun to come over if he wants. I was talking to his mother the other night, and she mentioned that he’ll be on his own for a few days and I don’t want that boy starving to death and being eaten by his cat.”

“He eats candy.”

“Shiita,” his mother sighs, exasperated. “Just tell him to come over and join us, okay?”

“‘kay. Where’s Dad?”

“He left. He said to have a good day. He may be home for dinner.”

Urayama shuffles back into his room to get a shower. Before he strips and heads into his bathroom, he grabs his phone and types out a reminder for Kato like he does every morning. He’s done it for nearly three years now and it’s finally become habit. 

_dont forget ur happy pills_ _(￣▽￣)ノ_

He texts Oyama to come over for breakfast while he’s on his phone. 

By the time he’s out of the shower and in his school uniform, he has a response from Kato.

_Took them with breakfast._

Urayama smiles. Kato is like a sister to him, only not really because he already has a sister who he loves very much. He met Kato when she was in her rough patches and he’s done his best to make sure she’s happy because she may be better at hiding it now, but she still has her rough patches today. They’re not as bad, but they’re still there, and they still upset Urayama. Plus Kato forgets to take her pills sometimes, and Urayama would go to hell and back to make sure she gets them. Kato forget her pills once and, well, it wasn’t a pretty day.

He heads back into the kitchen and sees Oyama helping his mom plate stacks of pancakes. Oyama’s cat Sapphire is sitting on the kitchen. Urayama goes over to make faces at the cat as he scratches under her chin.

“Did you take your pills?” Oyama asks.

Urayama scrunches his nose. He reminds Kato to take her anti-depressants every morning, but he’s horrible at taking his ADHD meds. He runs back into his room, grabs his pill bottle, and returns.

“Finish setting the table, Shiita,” his mother says. “Kenta-kun is telling me about that party you went to and played at. Was it fun?”

_When was the last time I saw Mom?_ Urayama thinks. _The Circus was last week._

“Yeah,” Urayama answers, smiling and putting down forks. “Show went great! I left a CD on your dresser. Did you see it?”

“I saw it. I’ve been bragging about you at work.”

Urayama steps around Oyama’s cat and helps his mom put the food on the table. She leaves immediately after the boys sit down to eat, kissing Urayama and Oyama on the top of their heads. Sometimes Urayama wonders if they’ve adopted Oyama. Then there are other times when Urayama wonders if Oyama’s family has adopted him. They live right next to each other in an upscale apartment complex, and since their parents work, the two teenagers move between whichever home is most highly occupied at any given moment. When neither are occupied with adults, Urayama crashes at Oyama’s, because he has a cat and sofa in his bedroom.

Sapphire the cat jumps up into Urayama’s lap as he eats pancakes drowned in syrup. “Hey, kitty-kitty,” Urayama coos. “Haven’t seen you in awhile. Sorry, buddy. Been busy learning how to play Kato’s drum pad. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“She can hear it from my room,” Oyama says. “She panics whenever you practice.”

“Whoops. Did she scratch you?”

“No. She just cries really loudly and hides in the bathtub. I took pictures and videos.”

“You should have said something!” Urayama says. “I would have gone to Marui’s to practice.”

Oyama shrugs, then gathers the dishes to wash so they can get to school on time.

They catch a train with other students from the area, standing so others can sit. Urayama looks around and catches a few girls giggling and looking at them.

“Kenta,” Urayama says in a sing-song voice. “Those girls are looking at you. I think they like you.”

“They’re in chorus with me,” Oyama says. “They’re sopranos. I don’t like voices that high. Kato is more of an alto and her voice is nicer. Aiko has a higher voice, but it’s not as annoying…”

“It’s probably because you’re tall,” Urayama says, ignoring Oyama just to tease him. It’s fun to see a guy as big and “scary” as Oyama flustered over girls. Urayama figures that’s why Yukimura teases Sanada so much. There’s some fundamentally funny about seeing tall, impressive, and intimidating men blushing and stuttering. 

Oyama looks away from the girls, his ears red. 

Urayama drops it, but when they get off the train at the stop near the school, the girls follow them. Urayama points it out and Oyama replies that they go to the same school, so obviously they’re following. But when they get to the gate, they tap Urayama on the shoulder and when he turns, he sees one of them holding out Zero to Hero’s new CD.

“Could you sign it?” she asks. “I-I really like your songs. Especially the guitar and keyboard parts. Attractive Today is my favorite one.”

“I like that one too!” Urayama says. “It’s fun to play.”

Her friends giggle behind her.

Urayama smiles, digs into his bag for a pen that can be used to sign a CD (he learned from Marui to always carry one, just in case), and takes the CD from her. He signs, then hands it off to Oyama, who signs it to her personally since he knows her name. 

“I’m guessing you got this from Kirihara,” Urayama says. Kirihara and his friends are selling those things like pot. They’ve already planned to make more. “He gets info on our shows too.”

“Really?” the girl says. “I’m a second year so I see him a lot…”

“Just bug him from time to time. He’s not big on posters or flyers, but he’ll tell you if you ask. And if he doesn’t, just ask Kenta in chorus.”

She looks at Oyama, who hands her the CD. 

“Thanks,” the girl says, blushing and smiling at Urayama. 

Urayama nods. “Yup!”

The girl thanks them several times, and is dragged off by her friends.

“I feel like a rockstar,” Urayama says.

“She likes you,” Oyama says.

“Huh?”

“She likes you, Shiita.”

Urayama turns red this time. “Don’t turn the tables on me! That’s mean, Kenta! You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

Oyama smiles. 

They find Kirihara selling CDs out of his cubby in the lobby, stuffing money into his pockets after counting it with a confused expression. Kirihara and his two friends from other schools are responsible for more than half their CDs sales, and the three get a decent cut of the profit. Oyama doesn’t know the exact numbers—Marui, Kato and Yanagi figure it out—but he knows they’re making quite a bit of money. 

As they walk towards their class, Oyama thinks about what he’s going to buy with his cut of the profit. He knows Urayama is buying a bone pick, Marui is buying honey is insane bulk quantities, and Kato wants polish for her drum set. Jackal mentioned something about another bass, a new one that sounds different and allows him to give off a different feel. Besides candy, there isn’t much that Oyama wants. He’ll just put it towards cat toys and the band’s monetary fund for the next time they record.

Suddenly, Oyama becomes aware that no one is walking beside him. He looks to the side and sees Urayama squatting in front of the student council room with his ear pressed to the fogged window in the door. 

“What are you doing, Shiita?” Oyama asks, sighing.

“I saw Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai go inside together,” Urayama says. “I wonder if they’re getting high again.”

Oyama looks at the door, which used to be open all the time. Since Niou showed up, it’s been kept closed. Oyama always assumed it was so they could get high, but part of him has always suspected something else is going on. 

“Shiita, I don’t think we should—“

Before he can say anything else, Urayama grabs his hand and yanks him down to the ground. Oyama has to kneel so his head isn’t visible through the window. Urayama grins at him, too much like Marui and Kato when they do something wrong, and Oyama gives in, pressing his ear to the door to listen in.

It’s hard to distinguish their voices, especially when Oyama has only heard Niou’s voice a handful of times and the door is muffling Yagyuu’s voice.

“We need to talk,” Niou says.

“About what, Niou-kun? If this is about my grades, I can assure you that—“

“It’s not about your grades.” If Yagyuu says something, Oyama can’t hear. He presses closer, damning Urayama and the band’s influence on him, listening to Niou say, “This needs to stop.”

“What?”

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

Oyama and Urayama look at each other. Urayama shrugs and says, “I dunno.”

“I should have ended it a long time ago,” Niou says. “You’re a cool guy once you drop the nice guy act that you put up around everyone in this damn school, but we shouldn’t hang out anymore, not until things are taken care of.”

“Why? What things?” Yagyuu asks. “Don’t give me that look. At least answer my question if you’re going to do this.”

The desk creaks as someone jumps up onto it, probably Niou. Wasn’t he sitting on the desk when the band caught the two getting high?

“I like someone. You do too. You know why that’s an issue, Yagyuu.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“How long have you known?” Yagyuu asks. 

“Since we had sex.”

“I’m guessing the person you like isn’t me, is it?”

“No,” Niou replies bluntly. 

Oyama didn’t know Niou was gay, but that’s no surprise since he’s never talked to Niou before. But Yagyuu? Oyama’s known him since junior high when he got roped into the band and their ever growing gang of friends. Yagyuu had never shown an interest in girls, never even batted an eyelash at Marui coming out to the gang during spring break,  never said anything even though they were vaguely friends. 

Oyama looks at Urayama, who does not look hurt or confused like Oyama thought he would. Urayama is looking up. Oyama looks up and sees the student council vice-president standing over them with a pissed look and his hands on his hips.

“Nishimura-senpai!” Urayama squeaks. “We weren’t eavesdropping!”

“Shiita,” Oyama sighs. 

Nishimura grabs them by the collars of their shirts, bringing them to their feet. It’s comical how Oyama keeps rising far past Nishimura’s height. Oyama curls forward so Nishimura’s hand doesn’t rip his collar off. 

“Go away before I take you to the main office for being complete idiots,” Nishimura says.

“Yes, Sir!” Urayama says.

When their collars are released, they adjust their bags and quickly leave before Nishimura changes his mind. 

Nishimura watches them go, then tries the knob on the student council door only to find it locked. He frowns, takes out his keys, and opens the door. He regrets it.

He sees that white haired kid who got expelled from his old school, the one Yagyuu showed around at the beginning of the year and has been hanging around it. The punk is sitting on the desk with Yagyuu in front of him. Weirder still, Yagyuu has his hands on either side of the punk’s hips and is leaning forward. Like they were kissing or something. Or Yagyuu was kissing _him_. 

His name is Niou, right?

“Yagyuu,” Niou says sharply. His head is turned away, his eyes locked on Nishimura. 

Yagyuu takes a step back, giving Niou enough room to jump off the desk.

“Please, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu says softly. “I can—“

“No.” Niou grabs his bag and heads for the door. He glances at Nishimura, pauses briefly in debate, and turns around. “I’m sorry,” Niou says.

“You’re not.”

Niou smirks, barely. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leaves. 

Nishimura walks into the room and closes the door behind him. Yagyuu slides down to the ground, folding his arms across his knees and hiding his face. 

“If you would be so kind, Nishimura-kun, to not tell anyone what you saw or heard,” Yagyuu says. 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Nishimura says, softer than usual. What the hell did he just walk in on? “Honestly.” 

Yagyuu does not respond. Nishimura locks the door on his way out.

.

Niou is toked out of his mind, that much is obvious. Marui watches him come into class ten minutes late, listens to the too-loud music coming out of his earbuds, but doesn’t say anything. If Niou wants to sit there being overly emotional and stoned, then Marui’s going to let him, even if that does mean his note-passing buddy is out of commission for the day. It’s not like it’s a big deal, anyways, just something they do during boring lectures. Sometimes they’ll write out lyrics to see if the other knows it, or complain about the lecture and joke about getting high in the bathroom again.

As the day goes on, Marui misses those little notes until he gets a text from Ren that makes his day.

_Lunch?_

He responds quickly.

_Sure. Meet you on the roof._

How long has it been since he’s seen Ren? Between her volleyball activities, the band recording, and the show at the Circus, it feels like it’s been forever. When the lunch bell rings, he happily takes his lunch and one of the CDs from his bag — _weird, my snacks are still there_ , he thinks—makes  sure it’s the right one, and jogs up to the roof. When he gets to the roof, Ren is already there, sitting against the chain-link fence.

“You look pretty today,” he says, smiling and sitting next to her. She smells like apples. “Did you get more muscle?”

Ren smooths her short skirt over her thighs. “I doubt it’s visible yet, but I’ve been doing squats to improve my jumping power.” She looks at him, grinning. “Wanna see how strong they are now?”

Marui nearly moans at her implication. 

“You look like a kicked puppy,” she laughs. Marui looks at her legs, then her face, and leans in to kiss her mouth. He’s missed the slick of her lipgloss and the feeling of her thigh beneath his hand. Her leg feels firmer when he rubs it, digging his fingers into her strong thigh as he pries her mouth open with his tongue. Her hand is gentle on his neck, warm to the touch, different from how Niou’s hand felt on his neck.

She smiles and gently pushes at his chest. He stops kissing her.

She’s grinning, and he knows that whatever is about to happen, it won’t be good. She says, _“When I met you, you were on your back. We still spend most afternoons like that, but not for long.”_

“You heard the song.” 

“Yes, I heard it. The girls on my team won’t stop singing it.” She crawls into his lap, straddling him. Marui reaches back, cupping her ass, feeling the lace of her panties, and holds her still. She teases, “Who said you could put that on the CD?”

“You. After I made you come.”

“You know it’s unfair to ask me things after I come. I’m out of it.” 

Marui kisses under her jaw. “Sorry, Cougar.”

“I don’t have to let you go down on me, you know.”

“That’s mean.”

Ren laughs again, puts her hands against his chest, and kisses him full on the mouth. She kisses like she has sex, slow and steady and teasing. 

“You’re a genius,” she says softly. “There’s no way I’d give up having you between my legs.” 

Marui grins and pulls her closer.

Beware! Cougar! is a song he wrote about Ren. It’s partially a joke, one students in their school will probably take the wrong way, but neither of them care. Ren is one of the few students who is older than him, so she’s a cougar to Marui. The entire song sounds like it’s about sex, but it’s so much more.

It’s about how their relationship will end along with high school, or maybe even sooner if either of them finds someone else. It’s about how Ren taught him to get over his manipulative ex-boyfriend and his issues with trust and physical contact. It’s about how much he cares about her, about how he would go out with her if she asked but how she won’t. 

_“Young love is ruthless, so learn to fly._   
_You taught me things I can’t forget,_   
_Positions that I don’t regret._   
_I can’t walk away, and I can’t shake the taste._

_“Do you want to tie me up?_   
_Do you want to tie me down?_   
_Go ahead and do it now.”_

Marui is sliding a hand up to cup her breast—“Bunta,” she whispers, driving his crazy—when the door from the stairwell opens. They rip apart, afraid it’s a teacher, but it’s a false alarm. Urayama, Oyama, and Jackal are standing there with their lunches. Oyama and Jackal look awkward, aware of what they walked in on, but Urayama doesn’t care. He bounces over and sits next to them.

“Hi, Akiyama-senpai!” Urayama says.

Ren smiles and moves Marui hand off her boob. “Hey, Urayama-kun.” She runs a hand through her hair and Marui kisses the curve of her neck. She hits the back of his head. Urayama doesn’t seem to care.

“You guys scared the crap out of me,” Marui says to the two by the stairs. Ren sits next to Marui, but leans against him, and Oyama and Jackal come over and sit in front of them. 

“I was kidnapped,” Jackal says, looking at Urayama, who just smiles. “What the hell did you want to tell us?”

“For the record, I am completely against this,” Oyama points out.

Urayama is vibrating with energy.

“What’s up?” Marui asks. Ren’s hand finds Marui’s and squeezes.

Urayama takes in a deep breath, meaning he’s been holding this in all day and is about to explode, and says, “Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai were dating, and they broke up this morning. Oh, and they had sex.”

Jackal chokes on his own tongue. “ _What_?”

“Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai were dating, and they broke up this morning. And they had sex,” Urayama repeats.

“They heard you, they just don’t understand,” Oyama says. Urayama says _oh_ , like that makes more sense than unprompted deafness.

_That’s why he was high_ , Marui thinks. 

“It sounded like Niou-senpai broke up with him,” Urayama adds.

Marui’s mind whirls with thoughts an ocean deep at a mile a minute. Niou is gay, or at least bi, or maybe something like pansexual and he doesn’t give a shit about gender. It’s not that he likes Niou on more than a physical level, but the idea itself makes Marui inexplicably happy. He’s happy because doesn’t know anyone else who is seriously interested in the same gender to any degree. The only person he knows is gay is his ex, who doesn’t go to school with them anymore, and who is so far in the closet he could live in Narnia. 

But at his core, Marui is happy because there’s a little voice in the back of his head telling him he has a crush on Niou, and this means he is no longer into a strictly straight guy. 

_But that means he’s had sex with Yagyuu_ , Marui thinks bitterly. He doesn’t know why that makes him as angry as it does.

“So he’s gay?” Jackal asks. “They both are? I always thought Yagyuu was straight. He never said anything, did he? Marui, did Yagyuu ever say anything to you about being gay?”

“No. Unless he used a really weird metaphor that went right over my head.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Jackal says.

Urayama looks at Ren. “Akiyama-senpai, please don’t—“

“My lips are sealed,” Ren replies. Urayama grins. She returns the smile. 

“How’d you even figure this out?” Marui asks. 

“Kenta and I listened in on their conversation in the student council room,” Urayama says. “We thought they were just getting high, but I guess not.”

“Stop talking like I found this out by choice,” Oyama grumbles. 

They eat their lunches and gossip. Marui puts bits of food into Ren’s mouth, using it as an opportunity to whisper dirty things in her ear. The gossip fades out, and they talk about the CD, which prompts Marui to hand Ren a CD signed by every band member and Yukimura, since he did the artwork. Marui wrote something extra when he signed, and when she reads it, she kisses him, says she’ll thank him later, and he swallows hard. 

_For my cougar._   
_Thank you for everything._   
_— Marui Bunta_

Urayama and Oyama are first to leave, followed by Jackal who wants to see Aiko before lunch break is over, leaving the two alone again. Marui sticks a piece of gum into his mouth as they get their things to leave.

“Sorry for being busy,” Marui says.

“We can catch up properly after school,” Ren says. “My parents aren’t home, and I heard of a new indie movie you may like.”

“Definitely. I’ll meet you at the gate after the bell.” Marui smiles and blows a bubble. 

They go their separate ways inside, heading back to class. Marui sits down, examines Niou, and suddenly remembers. Niou’s interested in men. 

“What?” Niou asks, noticing that Marui is staring.

“You’re not completely baked anymore,” Marui replies. Niou grins for a moment, then it disappears. Marui goes on, “I have something for you. I got everyone to sign it, even Yukimura. He did the artwork. You know Yukimura, right? You went to his party.” Marui is careful not to add, “with Yagyuu” to the end. 

Marui digs through his bag, finds one of the CDs, and hands it to Niou, who studies the cover art and signatures, then turns it over to look at the song names.

“Thanks,” Niou says before tucking the CD into his bag. 

“You should text me when you listen to it, tell me what you think.” Marui blows a bubble. Niou nods and says he will. “You okay?” Marui asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.”

.

Yagyuu knows Niou will not come, but he sits at the desk in front of the student council room and waits. He waits for Niou to come in, lock the door, and ask if he wants to smoke a joint he rolled in the bathroom during lunch. He waits for Niou to come in, and ask why he wasn’t in the bathroom before fifth period to make out. He waits for Niou to come in, and say he changed his mind, that this morning was a mistake and everything will continue on the way it has been for the last two and a half months.

Niou doesn’t come in.

He was expecting this, deep down, somewhere in some voice that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Ever since they had sex, something has been off. Niou seemed less enthused, seemed less comfortable. They didn’t smoke together. Then Niou went to that college party, and they stopped going for burgers, and they stopped meeting before fifth period, and Niou stop sniffing his cologne. He should have seen it coming. 

Yagyuu sighs, grabs his bag, and prepares to leave. Nishimura sent him a text saying he would turn in that second year’s service forms. Niou sent him nothing.

On his way out, as he’s locking the door, he sees Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi walking towards him. Yukimura stops and smiles, and the other two stop behind him.

“How have you been?” Yukimura asks.

“I’ve been busy,” Yagyuu says.

“You look tired,” Sanada points out.

Yagyuu nods. He feels exhausted. “Don’t you three have club?”

“I’ve taken a break from art club at the moment,” Yukimura says. “Since I did the cover art for Zero to Hero’s new album, I haven’t been very inspired.”

Yagyuu looks at the others.

“Since the tournaments are coming up and training is serious, we have rest periods,” Sanada says. Sanada is a National-level competitor in kendo, and his team is expected to do well in several categories this year. Yagyuu isn’t surprised. “We don’t have practice on Wednesday anymore,” Sanada says.

“Chess club is more of an appreciation group than a club,” Yanagi says, smiling. “It’s very low key.”

“I see,” Yagyuu says.

“We were going to get something to eat,” Yukimura says. “I think we were planning on going to Genichirou’s afterwards to study. You should come, if you’re up to it.”

_Niou-kun isn’t coming_ , Yagyuu thinks. _No matter how long you wait, he won’t show._

“Okay,” Yagyuu says.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is “Beware! Cougar!” by The Academy Is.


	10. Chapter 10

Yanagi says he has something to talk to them about, so the band meets up with Yanagi and Yukimura after school. Jackal kisses Aiko good-bye, wishing her luck on her studying, before the band and the two boys head the opposite way to a cheap diner. The restaurant smells like fried food that will kill them in a matter of seconds. They sit in the largest booth and order milkshakes and copious amounts of food while they wait for Kato to show up. 

“So what do you need to tell us about, Yanagi-senpai?” Urayama asks with milkshake over his face. Yukimura laughs softly and hands him a napkin. “Oh, thanks!”

“We’ll wait for Kato,” Yanagi says.

“She just walked in the door,” Urayama says.

When he finishes the last word, Kato slides into the booth next to Urayama, stealing Marui’s milkshake and Jackal’s fries. Marui shouts and Jackal rolls his eyes; he’s used to this sort of treatment from Marui and her. Kato looks at Yanagi expectedly, then frowns and looks at the rest of the table.

“Where’s Hat?” Kato asks. “Isn’t he a parasite that’s always with you two?”

“He’s at kendo club,” Yukimura says. “I can let him know you missed him.”

“For the love of all that is good and holy, Girly, don’t even joke about something that gross.”

Yukimura smiles in response. His smile has always bothered her. She always thought it was fake. Back when they first met through Yanagi, and later began hanging out because she was roped into Marui and Jackal’s band, she saw more and more of that smile. It bothered her when her depression was untreated more than now, but sometimes it makes her uneasy. It makes her second guess whether they’re friends, and that leads to a downward spiral of negative thoughts. 

Kato taps a beat with her foot, pushing the bad thoughts away. She shoves fries into her mouth.

“Since you’re all here, I think I can show you know.” Yanagi reaches for his bag under the table, pulling his laptop from his bag, and after several seconds of typing, he turns the screen to show them a twitter account called _ZtH_official_. 

“Please tell me this is a joke,” Kato says.

“Two hundred fifty seven followers?” Jackal reads. “When did you make this?”

“Earlier this week,” Yanagi answers.

Marui takes the laptop from Yanagi and reads over what posts have been made. Contact info for the band, info about their CDs and where to buy them, and who does what in the band. It’s basic so far, which makes the follower count even more impressive.

“Also, we’re printing another three hundred CDs,” Yukimura adds kindly. “Plus another one hundred of the old ones.”

“Yes, I forgot to mention that,” Yanagi says. “Akaya’s friends have sold out at their schools, and newer fans want the old CDs. Kato also mentioned something about selling more at her school.”

Kato nods. “Yeah. Some girls in my chem class are bugging me for them and I’m out of copies.”

Yukimura smiles and reverts topics. “It was my idea—the twitter account, I mean.”

“Technically, it was Krewella’s,” Yanagi says. “She complains quite a bit about how the band doesn’t have a website. This was much easier.”

Yukimura goes on, “I thought Marui could post lyrics, and you could post videos of practices or older songs you’ve done over the years. I know that I have a few videos of you on my phone from junior high that may be worth sharing. I thought it would be nice since the fan base is growing.”

“I like it,” Urayama says. “Kenta and I make videos together all the time but have no way to share them.” Oyama nods in agreement.

“I think my dad has some of our older shows and practices on a flash drive somewhere,” Jackal says. “Marui, don’t you have that box under your bed with old lyrics and videos?”

Marui doesn’t like to think about that box. He nods and blows a bubble.

Yanagi waits for them all to finish, then says, “I posted contact information, andsomeone has gotten in touch with me about doing an interview with you. The woman is a university student majoring in communications who’s doing an internship with Jaeger Bombs.”

“First the Circus, now Jaeger Bombs?” Jackal says, grinning at Yanagi and Yukimura. “You guys are _good._ You have to let us pay you.”

“Are you serious, Bowl?” Kato asks. “Because if you’re fucking with me, I will fuck you up.”

Jaeger Bombs is a magazine for rock, pop punk, and indie bands. It’s not a name brand magazine, but it has a large fan base and circulates around most of the region. Kato gets the issue every month. She’s learned about half the bands on her iPod from Jaeger Bombs.

“Nothing is official,” Yukimura says. “But we’re working on it. We’ll let you know.”

Urayama is bouncing in his seat. Kato doesn’t even seem put off that nothing is official, like just the idea is enough to keep her happy for a year. Marui grins and blows a bubble, finally at a loss of words. Maybe Jackal has a point. They should pay these guys.

“This is fucking awesome and all, but I’m starving and am gonna get some food,” Kato says. She gets out of the booth. Urayama slides out after her, following her up to get another strawberry milkshake. 

Marui takes back his milkshake and Jackal’s fries, but doesn’t give them to Jackal.

“Dude," Jackal says.

“What?” Marui says. “I’m hungry.”

“And I thought Niou stopped stealing your snacks,” Yukimura says.

It’s true. A week or two ago, Marui’s snacks stopped disappearing around the same time Niou broke up with Yagyuu. Marui never caught Niou in the act, but this is the same Niou who was able to pick Marui’s pocket _and_ put his number on Marui’s phone, all without Marui realizing. Marui doesn’t assume anything about what Niou Masaharu is capable of at this point. Marui texted him last night about it, but Niou denied the entire thing.

“Yeah, but I’m still hungry,” Marui says. “I’m a growing boy.”

Jackal rolls his eyes. 

They eat, laughing at bad jokes, and talk more about the interview Yanagi mentioned. Kato complains about her lab partner who refuses to do their fair share of work, and Yanagi brings up universities. Marui jumps in, tosses fries at Urayama when he gets too excited over the interview, and downs another milkshake.

An hour passes and Kato swears when her phone buzzes. “Holy mother fucking shit _fuck_.”

“Well, then,” Yukimura says, smiling.

“What’s wrong?” Oyama asks.

“I was supposed to see Krewella ten minutes ago; she just texted me asking if I died,” Kato says. “Apparently she found this ten year old brat, some kind of prodigy or something—she’s teaching him drums. She’s showing me a new timpani she got, then the three of us are gonna have a jam session.”

“You should record a video and post it online,” Yanagi says.

“You really aren’t gonna let this whole twitter thing go, are you, Bowl?” Kato laughs. She grabs her school bag and stands. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for practice.”

“We’ll talk about getting you a supply of CDs to sell later in the week,” Yanagi says.

Kato nods and heads out, flashing them a peace sign when she turns her back to them. 

.

Urayama and Oyama go to meet up with Kirihara, Yukimura and Yanagi go to Sanada’s to hang out and study, Jackal’s goes to his family restaurant for his shift, and Marui goes to Ren’s. He sits outside of her house on the curb, waiting for her to come home from her afternoon volleyball practice. While he waits, he chews on his gum and texts Niou. His phone buzzes with a new message and he smiles, quick to reply.

_who does the violin in the acoustic of neverland?_

_Urayama._

_the guitar player?_

_And keyboard.  
Oyama is main guitar._

_what else can he play?_

_Ukelele, cello, and something else.  
I think he’s learning percussion from Kato._

_hot damn_

_Did you seriously just say that?_

_yeah_

Marui grins stupidly at his phone. He’s so distracted by his pointless conversation with Niou that he doesn’t see Ren approach. He doesn’t notice her until she’s leaned down behind him, her lips pressed against his ear, and says, “Your booty call has arrived.”

Marui tilts his head to the side and kisses her without hesitation. It feels natural and he knows where her lips are from every thinkable angle. Her hair is still wet from her after practice shower, and she doesn’t have make up on, and her lips are dryer than usual. He feels her hand thread into his hair and gently tug him back.

“Let’s go inside,” she says. “I don’t want my neighbors asking my mom if I have a boyfriend. That will lead to way too many questions that I don’t want to answer.”

Marui jumps to his feet, shoves his phone into his pocket, and follows her inside and upstairs to her bedroom. She locks her door even though her parents don’t come home until later, and drops her bag on the floor next to his. She runs a hand through her damp hair, somehow makes it look like the hottest thing in the world, and smiles at him. He swallows thickly, blood running hotter than before, and approaches.

Marui puts his hands on her hips and kisses her deeply. Her arms wrap around his neck, her skin hot against his neck, and raises to the tips of her toes to kiss him. They kiss and laugh and move to the bed, stripping their outermost layers as they go until she’s straddling him in her underwear and kissing his neck.

His head spins at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest, and how her muscled thighs feel against his hips, how she plants herself right over his groin because she knows it drives him crazy. How many times have they done this? Marui doesn’t know and neither does his body. Ren’s body is familiar to his and his body knows what to do before his mind does.

Her skin is hot, her mouth is hotter. His hand cups the back of her head as she moves down his body with purpose. She kisses his nipples playfully and he says, “Yours are better.”

Ren sits up, resting on his stomach and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’re right,” she agrees, and reaches down to twist her sports bra over her head, leaving her in cotton underwear. The fabric feels wet against his stomach. He fingers at the elastic waist, teasing, before sliding his hands up her sides to cup her breasts. She sighs when he fondles them, hums when he flicks at the nipples, and moans when he sits up to kiss them.

“Bunta,” she says, holding the back of his head as he licks, nips and sucks at her nipples and the soft curve under her breast. She ruts into his groin, her hips moving and building a rhythm. “Touch me.”

He reaches down, rubbing his fingers over her underwear.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says. He slides his hand beneath her underwear, feeling coarse hair and sinful heat, and teases her clit. She tilts his head back to kiss him. He moans, “Fuck, you’re really wet.”

“Then do something about it, _Bunta_.”

The way she says his name drives him crazy. He wonders how his name would sound coming out of Niou’s mouth. He kisses her again to push that thought away. 

He dips his fingers into her, curling them just right as he flicks his thumb over her clit. The angle is awkward and it hurts his wrist when he moves his hand and fingers, but it’s worth it to hear her moan, broken and ragged with pleasure. He loves watching her reach her peak, loves going down on her and feeling her thighs hold his head in place, loves watching her come. 

“Just like that,” she says. “Fuck, Bunta, don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan to,” he replies with a cocky grin.

He knows just where to touch her to drive her insane. He doesn’t tease and he doesn’t wait. He curls his fingers up inside of her and presses down on her clit with his thumb, rubbing in firm circles that make her body shake and muscles tense everywhere. She clutches at his fingers but he doesn’t stop moving them. Her hips roll against his, and he uses his other hand to gently still her, rubbing his thumb along her jutting hip bone. 

He kisses her, pressing his tongue against hers. She keens into his mouth, hips rocking against his hand as she squeezes and releases around his fingers. She moans and whines and gasps, panting when her orgasm has finished and he pulls his fingers from the confines of her underwear. Instead of wiping them clean on the sheets, he sucks on his fingers until they’re wet with spit instead of her. 

“You know, I’ve heard a lot of guys hate going down on girls,” Ren says hotly against his cheek. She pecks his cheek as he runs his hands up and down her sides, occasionally brushing her breasts. She shakes slightly, oversensitive.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re missing,” he replies, smiling. She rolls her eyes, turns to kiss him on the mouth, and pushes her weight against him until he falls back against the pillows.

He kisses her until he loses track of time, until she isn’t shake with the after waves of her orgasm. Her hair seems to knot around his fingers.

She crawls down his body, kissing his chest and stopping at the waist of his underwear. She grins up at him, face flushed and lips wet, and tugs down his boxers. He raises his hips to help. She frowns for a moment when she sees his length, half-hard against his thigh. She doesn’t frown for long, though, and takes his erection in her hand, working it up and down with a confident grip. The glide isn’t as smooth without the usual pre-cum.

“Do you want me to use lube?” she asks, looking up at him. “Doesn’t this hurt? Or I could grab a condom and blow you.”

“No, this is fine.”

Marui turns his face into her pillow, adjusting his hips as she keeps working him. He can smell her on her pillow and sheets, and it makes him dizzy. Her hand is firm and strong, and it has gotten him off countless times just like this, but something is wrong and it isn’t the lack of desire. He wants this. He wants _her_. He just wishes her hand were larger, her fingers slimmer and longer.

“Bunta?” she says, stopping, thumb brushing his balls and rubbing the base of his cock. “You’re limp.”

Marui props himself up on his elbows. Ren’s breasts are hanging against her chest, and he can see a stain in her underwear, and his fingers still smell like her. But she doesn’t smell like pot and male brand soap, and she doesn’t have large hands like Niou, and her jawline is softer than the face in his head. Her brown eyes look at him and it feels wrong. This feels wrong.

“Sorry, I just _—_ “ Marui falls back down into the pillows and covers his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment.

Ren releases him completely and comes to kneel next to him. She gently guides his hands away from his face and he looks at her. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Getting me off usually turns you on.”

“I know,” he says, groaning because he even tasted her and that’s usually enough to get him hard without any physical contact. “And it’s not you. You’re beautiful, Ren, and so damn sexy right now, but I’m just not in the mood.”

“You were when you were getting me off.” Ren frowns.  ”What’s on your mind? You haven’t been this strung up since we first got together.”

There’s no judgement in her voice, just concern and friendly curiosity. She isn’t teasing him because he can’t get it up, and she isn’t disappointed. It reminds him of their first few times together, when he had never been with anyone and had no idea how to get her off. She was always so kind. That’s what he loves about her.

He looks at her, and he thinks of white hair, of facial piercings, of a deep throated laugh that makes him think in rose colored glasses.

“There’s a guy,” he says, smiling at the thoughts in his head. “Niou.”

“The new kid? The one who broke up with Yagyuu?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re asking for a threesome, I’d be up for that,” Ren says. Her breasts move with her shrug. “I’ve always wondered how you’d look with another guy.”

Marui almost laughs. “No,” he says. “I’m not asking for that. I think I like him… A lot.”

“Tell me about him.” Ren moves his hair out of his face, gently touching his face with light lingering touches, and he wants to reach up and return her touch but he doesn’t. She says, “Besides that he’s a hot jackass.”

Marui finally laughs, any tension he had leaving his body. He remembers calling Niou that on his first day.

“He gets my music, _really_ gets it,” Marui says. “Sometimes he’ll give me his headphones during lunch so we can listen to music together, and he listens to these great bands I’ve never heard of. He’s got all these piercings in his ears and face, and I sometimes I think that he forgets he’s taken them out because he’ll feel his ears or go to adjust them when there’s nothing there.”

Marui turns onto his side, pressing half his face into a pillow and wishing it smelled like him. “And he smells like spice and smoke,” Marui goes on. “We got high together in detention together. I think he smokes when he gets anxious. He smiles a lot when he smokes. And his voice. God, Ren, his _voice_.”

“Is it nice?”

“It’s a perfect pitch. He can say my lyrics and it sounds like he’s singing. It’s that nice.” Ren smiles, continuing to play with his hair. He says, “He’s smart, too. He got a better grade than me on the last test. He finishes before everyone else and just sits in his chair until someone else is done. And you know how I said he was stealing my snacks?”

“Yeah.”

“He stopped about two weeks ago. I wonder if he likes sweets, or if he did it to piss me off. I texted him and asked the other day, and he denied the whole thing. Did I ever tell you that he picked my pocket when we were high and put his number in my phone? He texts me about music and stupid shit, and we pass notes in class about how boring lecture is. He’s so damn funny—smart funny, you know what I mean?”

“He sounds awesome,” Ren says. 

_He is_ , Marui thinks. Ren doesn’t say anything else, waiting for him to say something, because it’s obvious that there’s more he has to say and it’s not about Niou anymore. This is more serious than love-sick teenage girl small talk.

”I was so happy when I found out he broke up with Yagyuu, because it means he’ll date a guy and he’s single,” Marui says. He swallows. It sticks in his throat. Suddenly he knows what he needs to do. “So I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Not like this, at least.”

Part of Marui wants her to say something, to say something that will make him give up on Niou and stay with her. Ren has been there for nearly two years now, longer than anyone else he’s ever been involved with, and he loves her. He doesn’t love her romantically, but he may be able to, if she wants him to. He’d do anything for her after what she’s done for him.

She smiles in a way that makes his chest tight.

“Okay,” she says, and it’s like a damn has broken inside Marui. He smiles, relieved, and she goes on without pause, “So long as I can still booty call you for homework help, or to order pizza on Friday nights.”

“I’d like that.”

Ren smiles like the sun. It’s cheesy, but true. She bends down, her hair falling like a curtain, and kisses his cheek slowly for several long seconds. Marui closes his eyes and breathes in her apple shampoo; he can imagine the scent of her missing cherry lipgloss. She pulls back, still smiling, and reaches over him for her bra.

“Wanna watch a movie together?” Ren asks. She grabs his underwear, tossing them onto his face. “I’m avoiding my homework.”

“Sure.” Marui takes the boxers off his face, tugging them on. She gets out of bed and he watches as she gets dressed in front of him for what will probably be the last time. He hugs a pillow, watching her walk around the room, and smiles. 

They dress and watch an indie movie and talk about university. Ren wants to go into physical education, maybe major in exercise science and coach volleyball. Marui tells her about his plans to major in cinematography, and talks about he’s been wanting to learn how to write score music for movies. Marui is on a long winded speech when he gets a text from Niou.

_did you die or something?  
you never replied_

Marui gets the biggest, dumbest smile.

_Sorry. Something came up._   
_What were we talking about?_   
_Oh yeah. You said hot damn like a loser._

Marui holds his phone in his hands, waiting for Niou to respond, and looks to Ren, who asks for help on her homework. His phone buzzes quicker than he was expecting and he grins. Ren rolls her eyes. 

He’s more than okay with this, and he knows that she is too.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It’s nearly too cold to skate, and every time Zaizen or Hiyoshi brings that up, Kirihara sticks his fingers in his ears and refuses to listen. He hates winter because winter means snow, and sleet, and cold metal that messes with the skateboards. He sees less of Zaizen, and Hiyoshi, and every other skater he knows during the winter, and it sucks. He has friends at school —Urayama, Oyama, the band, Yukimura and his gang—but it’s different because those guys don’t skate.  

On a chilly day after school, the three boys meet up at the skate park for what will probably be the last time until spring (unless by some miracle Zaizen makes a time machine instead of more fake IDs for tequila junkies). Kirihara keeps his hands in the pouch of his sweatshirt, headphones blaring Zero to Hero’s newest album, and he lip sings as he jumps over descending stairs. He lands perfectly. He grins.

He only jumps off his board when he reaches the skatepark where he needs to jog up a short set of stairs. He doesn’t see Zaizen or Hiyoshi lingering around street skating or on the half pipe, so he looks in the bowl and isn’t disappointed. Zaizen and Hiyoshi exit the covered tunnel neck-and-neck, shouting insult at each other before carving up opposite edges of the bowl. They come to an abrupt halt and an arbitrary point on the flat bottom—their finish line, Kirihara realizes.

“I won,” Zaizen says.

“In your dreams,” Hiyoshi replies. “I was a second faster. I crushed you.”

A second to them is a big deal. They’re equally talented so there’s usually no winner.

Hiyoshi turns to look up out of the bowl at Kirihara and says, “Yo, Kirihara! Who won?”

Kirihara hopes onto his board, kicks off, dips inside, and stops next to them. “Dunno. Hard to say. I think Hiyoshi’s head crossed first; it is filled with hot air so it has to expand, right?”

“Gases fill the volume of the container they’re in,” Zaizen says.

“Screw you both,” Hiyoshi replies, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s go again. Kirihara, count us off.”

The two are on their boards in seconds. Kirihara sets his board down, kicking off again, and shouts over his shoulder, “I’ll win at this rate!” They follow after him while he laughs.

They skate until Zaizen’s hands are shaking with the cold, the park lights have kicked on, and the cops are doing their nightly run by’s to make sure no one is getting high down in the bowl. Zaizen crouches in a shadowed corner with Kirihara’s fingerless gloves on his hands (Kirihara stole them from Hiyoshi last year, and Hiyoshi never noticed), and applies copious amounts of spray paint to part of the brick wall around the park. Zaizen uses some sort of code to tell people how to contact him for fake IDs, but Kirihara’s never figured it out. He never had to; Zaizen gave him and Hiyoshi fakes last year. 

Hiyoshi and Kirihara street skate around the park, grinding on benches and jumping over small stair steps, before climbing the half pipe and lying down. Kirihara rubs his glove-less hands together, blows hot air on them, and still thinks he’s going to get frostbite.

“You could be a gentleman and give me your gloves, rich kid,” Kirihara says.

“When have I ever cared about being a gentleman?” Hiyoshi replies.

Kirihara laughs so hard he nearly snorts. “Dude, this is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “The only girl that ever liked you was that Tachibana chick from last year’s tournament.”

“The one with the roller skates who hangs out with Kamio and his crew?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t want in my pants, she wanted in yours.”

“Seriously? Aw, fuck. She’s hot.”

“I heard she’s dating Kamio,” Hiyoshi says, sounding bored. “We should hang out with him, Kaidoh, and the others from that area when spring comes. We only ever see each other at tournament season when we kick their asses.”

“Hell yeah.”

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes. 

“Hey,” Kirihara says, a little more serious, “I’m sure there’s some girl that’d want in your pants.”

Hiyoshi turns his head and looks at Kirihara, who can see specks of colors in Hiyoshi’s eyes, maybe even count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. Hiyoshi’s always had nice eyes for a guy.

Whoa.

Not going there.

Kirihara moves his eyes away from Hiyoshi back to the stars. He can hear Zaizen shaking his can of paint. He can still feel Hiyoshi stare at him. 

“I don’t really care about that,” Hiyoshi says, finally looking away from Kirihara. “Girls are annoying.”

“You’re just saying that because no girls want to date you,” Kirihara replies cheekily.

“Shut up. I could get a girlfriend if I wanted to. For all you know, I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, really? Have you slept with her?”

“I’m not dating anyone, jackass.”

“Have you slept with _anybody_?” 

Kirihara tilts his head again, resting his cheek against the wood, and even in the dark he can see Hiyoshi turn bright red.

“Does that matter?” Hiyoshi grumbles.

“Aw, you’re a virgin. Zaizen, did you hear that? Hiyoshi hasn’t popped his cherry!”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zaizen replies. 

“Excuse me for having standards,” Hiyoshi says.

“Having sex with a guy doesn’t make a girl a whore, and having sex quickly doesn’t make you a slut,” Kirihara says seriously. “Don’t fight me on this. I’ve gotten this lecture a dozen times from the band.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Hiyoshi kicks his legs and sits up, moving to sit cross-legged at the edge of the lip. He looks down the pipe instead of at Kirihara. “I just think sex is something you do with someone you care about. People can have sex with whoever they want for whatever reasons they want, but that’s not me.”

Kirihara sits up too, dangling his legs and looking at Hiyoshi. Kirihara’s dated a few girls—he even slept with one of them a couple of times—but he never cared for them, not really. He dated them because they asked him, or he liked their faces or chests, but it was never nothing more. He only slept with his most recent ex because he felt like he had to. They had been dating for five months, and that’s just what people do, isn’t it? They have sex. It wasn’t amazing, not like Jackal says it is, and Kirihara was never really bothered by it. 

“I guess I can understand that,” Kirihara mutters. “Do you have someone you care about?”

Hiyoshi looks like he wants to say something, but before he can, Zaizen shouts, “You losers wanna grab burgers? I’m done.”

Kirihara’s stomach roars in response, loud enough for Hiyoshi to hear. Hiyoshi laughs, and it sounds different than usual, but Kirihara doesn’t know why. The laugh makes his stomach flutter, and his head a little cloudy, and those stupid love songs Marui writes suddenly make a little more sense.

_No. I’m straight. I like girls. Think manly things. Tits. Vaginas. Not Hiyoshi._

They get burgers, and Zaizen has to pay for Kirihara because he’s gotten used to the band or Yukimura covering his tab and didn’t bring his wallet. They end up getting kicked out for flinging ketchup soaked fries at one another. Hiyoshi has a fry stuck in his hair, and Kirihara wants to grab it out, but he doesn’t. Zaizen does, though. A month ago, that would have been normal. But Kirihara feels like there’s a wall between him and Hiyoshi now. Things that they used to be can’t be done, and things can’t be said, and they both understand the limits of this wall without ever having talked about it.

When did things stop being normal?

.

Kirihara comes out of shower, crashing onto his bed. He just spent the last half hour in the shower trying not to imagine Hiyoshi with his hand down some girl’s panties. Hiyoshi has had dates before, or at least he’s used that as an excuse to back out of skating with Kirihara and Zaizen, but Kirihara has never been bothered by it before. The same way he was never bothered about sex. But now he is.

Now he wants to know if Hiyoshi has ever touched a girl like that and if a girl has ever touched him back. He wants to know if Hiyoshi is rough with girls, fucking them hard but making sure they get to where they want to be, or if Hiyoshi is gentle, kissing them lightly and asking permission at every step to respect her. In a matter of seconds, dozens of scenarios pass through Kirihara’s mind and his heart races.

Kirihara groans, reaches for his phone, and texts Zaizen.

_does hiyoshi hve a gf?_

It’s late, and Zaizen said he was going to bed when they left McDonalds, so Kirihara doesn’t expect a response, but he gets one anyways.

_you woke me up to ask dumb shit like this?  
go the fuck to sleep_

_whys it dumb?_

_because he likes dudes?_

Kirihara stares at his phone. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Zaizen is dicking around, right? Hiyoshi would have said something if he was gay. They’re best friends. Best friends tell each other if they’re gay.

He gets another message from Zaizen.

_you did know that Hiyoshi is gay right…?_

_no_

_well shit. Im gonna tell him I told you._

Kirihara wants to silence his phone, shove it into the deepest corner of his nightstand where old condoms lurk, and go to sleep. He sits up, staring at his phone and waiting for it to ring. Hiyoshi isn’t a big texter. If anything, he’ll call.

What do you say when your best friend comes out to you? Kirihara hadn’t exactly been sober when Marui came out. He just remembers hugging him. Kato jokes that Kirihara kissed him, but Kirihara doesn’t believe that. (Though he can’t be sure. He was totally wasted.) Even after that, when Kirihara was sober, it wasn’t a bid deal. Marui is bi. Big deal. 

But Hiyoshi? Those thoughts of Hiyoshi with girls are flipped on their head. Suddenly Hiyoshi isn’t lying on a bed with his head between some girl’s legs. Now he's on his knees, but his head is still between some stranger's legs. Would Hiyoshi be gentle with guys, or would he be rough? Kirihara’s ex liked to bite. He liked that more than he would ever admit sober. He pictures Hiyoshi kissing some faceless man, biting and being bitten. He wonders if Hiyoshi fucks or gets fucked. 

Kirihara reaches down into his boxers to adjust himself because fuck, he’s turning himself on by thinking about dumb shit. 

_What if he likes me?_ Kirihara thinks. _That’s homophobic, isn’t it? Fuck. But what if he likes me. Do I like him?_

Kirihara’s phone rings.

“Hello?” Kirihara answers, too quick.

“Um, hey.” Kirihara’s chest tightens at the sound of Hiyoshi’s voice—deep, vibrating, pleasant to listen to, especially when they’re in the bowl at the skate park racing and his voice echoes. Kirihara closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. He hears Hiyoshi say, “Zaizen just called me.”

“And?”

“He said he told you.” Hiyoshi goes silent, and Kirihara remains silent as well for lack of words to say. Hiyoshi says, “Look, I didn’t tell you because—hell, I don’t have a good reason.

Kirihara’s chest feels funny, and his tongue is heavy, and his hand is so sweaty that he doesn't know how he’s holding the phone. He doesn’t know what to say.

_I think I like you? I’m questioning my sexuality? I get hard thinking about you naked?_

“Kirihara?” Hiyoshi says. Kirihara wonders how long he’s been lying on his bed, stupidly silent. “I get it if you don’t want to hang out anymore. I should have told you.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?” 

“Because some guys are so self-absorbed that they think any gay guy will like them.”

Kirihara grins. He probably shouldn’t joke right now, but it feels right when it’s Hiyoshi. He says, “I know I have a rockin’ ass and some beautiful abs, so I know it’s going to be hard to contain yourself. I don’t know how you’ve held back this long.”

Hiyoshi laughs, “You’re such an ass.”

“Well, you’re the one who assumed I would be that guy.”

“I didn’t know what to expect from you,” Hiyoshi says quietly. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“I don’t mind,” Kirihara says more seriously. “I still want to hang out and skate with you and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Hiyoshi lets out a huge sigh, then begins to talk about an indoor skatepark he heard about so that they could hang out and skate during the winter. 

Kirihara stares at his ceiling, chest tight and stomach warm, with Hiyoshi’s voice in his ear. Kirihara smiles. This is good. This is easy. This is the way friends are supposed to be.  But it’s still not right.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Kirihara is one of those people who makes friends easily without trying. He attracts people of all types and manages to get along with almost all of them—popular kids like Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi; skater kids like Hiyoshi and Zaizen; band nerds like the guys in Zero to Hero. They can all remember how they met Kirihara, but no one knows how they became friends. Kirihara just showed up at some point and never left. They probably couldn’t get rid of him even if they wanted to.

Despite having all these friends, it’s a Sunday and he is stuck in his room with nothing to do until late at night. Kirihara thinks about heading over to Urayama and Oyama’s, but then he remembers that they have an interview with some big music magazine that he knows nothing about. Apparently it’s a big deal—Marui won’t stop freaking out, and even Jackal is too excited to calm him down. Kirihara figures he can bug Yukimura instead. He needs to talk to him anyways. 

He shows up at Yukimura’s house without warning, walking up the large hill to his freakishly large house, and bangs on the door until Yukimura’s little sister lets him in. Kirihara swallows thickly because Yukimura’s sister is as pretty as her brother. She stares at the skateboard sticking out of his backpack. 

“Seiichi is upstairs with friends,” she says.

Kirihara jogs up the stairs like an idiot and is out of breath by the time he gets to Yukimura’s room. He opens the door without knocking, but it’s locked. He knocks obnoxiously.

“Yukimura-senpai,” Kirihara calls out. “Can I come in?"

“Hang on a second,” Yukimura responds. 

The door opens and Kirihara smiles stupidly at Yukimura, letting himself into the room. Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi have spread their homework out onto the floor along with a few pillows and several beer bottles, some empty and some half-full. Those three are always studying, even Sanada who doesn’t plan to go to university. Kirihara dreads his upcoming senior year. 

“Are you going to stand the whole time?” Sanada grumbles. Yukimura has sat back down and is sipping from a bottle. Yanagi and Yukimura look up at him.

Suddenly, Kirihara lies on the floor, hugs Yukimura’s large body pillow with his arms and legs, with his chin against one end, and he watches them work. He doesn’t know how they can drink and study. He can barely study without alcohol. 

“What are you guys doing after high school?” Kirihara asks suddenly. 

“I will hopefully be going to medical school,” Yanagi says. “I’ve already applied to a few schools and taken a few entrance exams, but many schools’ exams aren’t scheduled until early next year.”

Yukimura talks next. “I’m going into journalism. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be able to work for a magazine like Jaeger Bombs or something larger one day.”

“I’m joining the police force like my grandfather,” Sanada says.

“So why are you studying?” Kirihara asks.

“I don’t believe in slacking off after putting in so much effort.”

_Of course_ , Kirihara thinks. 

“What do you want to do, Akaya?” Yukimura asks. “You’ve never talked about it with us before.”

Kirihara shrugs awkwardly, his shoulder digging into the floor. “If I could do anything, I’d want to go and live on a beach. I’d learn to surf and play in the X-games as a pro. Maybe I’d be a sports drink sponsor or something. But that’s not gonna happen. I’ll probably go to university and get a degree in business or something.”

“There are three things any decent person should do,” Sanada says. Kirihara sees Yukimura smile at him over the edge of his bottle so Kirihara know’s it’s going to be old-man advice. “First, you should not give up on something you believe in. Second, if you’re concerned about other people something is wrong. And third, people should be direct about important things like feelings.”

Feelings, huh?

Kirihara’s focus switches from the friends in front of him to his friends from the skate park. Namely, Hiyoshi. It is surprisingly warm for this time of year and even though Zaizen couldn’t get out to see them, Hiyoshi and Kirihara made plans to meet up and skate anyways. Kirihara hasn’t seen him since The Incident (capitalization necessary) and anxiety coils in his gut. In a few short hours, he’ll be face to face with his friend, and he doesn’t know what to do or say.

Kirihara rolls back and forth on the floor—side, back, other side, back, first side again, and repeat.

“Is something bothering you, Akaya?” Yukimura asks. “You’re rolling like an upset caterpillar.”

Kirihara stops. “My friend came out to me the other day. Well, not directly. Another friend told me first.” Yukimura hums, indicating Kirihara should continue. “I’m just really confused now.”

“Sexual orientation doesn’t matter if you’re really friends with someone,” Sanada says.

“I know that,” Kirihara says.

“Then what’s wrong?” Yanagi asks curiously. “You didn’t act like this when Marui came out.”

“Do you… like him, Akaya?” Yukimura asks. He doesn’t sound judgmental. No one ever does in their gang. For some reason, Kirihara still feels like shrinking away in shame.

“I dunno,” he mumbles into the pillow. He keeps his face buried until his breath becomes too hot. He doesn’t look at them when he comes back up for air. “I didn't expect it, and I can’t stop thinking about why he didn’t tell me sooner, and I’m seeing him for the first time since it happened in a few hours.”

“Do you want a drink?” Yukimura asks.

Kirihara sits up, nodding, and takes the open beer bottle from Yukimura. Kirihara takes a few sips, wrinkling his nose at the taste. Yukimura drinks fancy beer. Kirihara is used to cheap crap. 

“I don’t care that he’s gay. I just care that he didn’t tell me.” They don’t speak, which Kirihara partly hates because if they don’t shut him up, he’s just going to ramble. “He said he was afraid because he didn’t know how I’d react, but he’s not the type to care about other people so I’m just confused.”

“I would take Genichirou’s advice and talk to him about it,” Yanagi says. Kirihara knows better than to question Yanagi because then he’ll get a long winded, logical response with big words he doesn’t understand.

“I think I’m just gonna drink this beer and sit here for awhile.”

“Okay,” Yukimura says, smiling.

So Kirihara sits there, slowly drinking, and wonders why he came here. It was something important and it wasn’t to talk about his gay friend.

.

He remembers what he forgot when he sees Hiyoshi at the skate park, sitting on a bench and playing with his phone, his skateboard between his feet and the ground. Kirihara was supposed to ask if they were printing more of Zero to Hero’s CDs because they were both about to run out.

Well, shit.

Kirihara walks up to Hiyoshi, rubs the back of his head, and says, “So I was just at Yukimura’s, but I kinda forgot to ask about the CDs.”

Hiyoshi sighs, “You’re an idiot.”

Kirihara grins, playing it off, and puts down his bag to get out his skateboard. Hiyoshi kicks his skateboard up and stands, awkwardly silent and stiff. Kirihara ignores it because bringing it up would just make it more awkward. 

Kirihara gets his board out and rolls it along the ground. He jumps on with practiced perfection and goes straight down into the bowl, carving along the edge and hanging on the lip. He can’t look back to see if Hiyoshi followed or not because he’ll crack his head open on the edge. (Hiyoshi follows.) Kirihara releases his stupid anxieties and skates to make sure they don’t catch back up with him.

It doesn’t feel awkward when they’re skating, each one trying to out do the other. When Hiyoshi grinds along the lip, Kirihara repeats the trick with only his front wheels. When Kirihara does a kick flip, Hiyoshi does kick flip while leading with his opposite foot. Kirihara tries to do a handstand on his board to out do Hiyoshi, who just pulled an awesome spin in the tunnel, but he ends up falling on his face. It burns when he skids and doesn’t stop moving, and he doesn’t scream because he knew there was a fifty-fifty chance of him failing miserably or succeeding. 

Hiyoshi squats down on his still moving board and comes to a halt next to Kirihara. He sounds like a mother hen when he says, “Wear your damn helmet next time you want to pull a stunt like that.”

“It makes my hair look bad.”

“Are you serious? Who is looking at your hair?”

“I don’t know.”

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes.

The temperature has dropped significantly since the sun went down he doesn’t know how long ago. Kirihara’s stomach is unpleasantly empty and he’s ninety-nine percent sure his face _isn’t_ bleeding, but it hurts so bad that he might very well be. Hiyoshi helps him to his feet and out of the bowl, which takes some effort without the momentum of their skateboards, and they sit on the ground near the vending machines. 

“What do you want for your head?” Hiyoshi asks, digging coins out of his pocket.

“Grape soda.”

Kirihara grins because this is the Hiyoshi he’s friends with. This is the Hiyoshi who helps him when he’s hurt, and lets him rant about how he can’t skate in the halls at school, and talks video games with him even though he hates video games. 

Hiyoshi tosses the can to Kirihara, who catches it and presses it to the side of his face. He collapses to the ground next to Kirihara, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the night sky. Kirihara stares at the curve of his neck. Hiyoshi catches him staring. Kirihara meets his eyes instead of looking away and the other boy flushes. 

“What?” Hiyoshi says. There’s a hesitant edge to his tone, like he’s half expecting Kirihara to screw this up. 

“Why’d you start skateboarding?” Kirihara asks. “I know your family is into that whole martial arts thing. How the hell did you get from that to skateboarding?”

Hiyoshi shrugs. “I don’t really have a reason. I thought it looked fun. I figured that since I was good it, I may as well enter tournaments. Why do you skate?”

“I don’t have a reason either. I like how mindless it’s become. At first, I hated it because Yukimura was better than me. I was at his house a lot when I was younger because my sister was his babysitter. He taught me a lot of cool tricks. Then he got hurt and never picked up a skateboard again.”

“Was it an injury?”

“No,” Kirihara says, shaking his head. “He was sick with some weird disease that I can’t pronounce. He’s fine now. It happened when we were in junior high. We thought he’d relapsed last year because he fell, but it was just a false alarm. He could probably out race all of us if he ever wanted to.”

Hiyoshi grins. “I’d like to see him try.”

Kirihara takes the can off his face because he’s starting to feel stupid and his skin is numb. He cracks it open, taking small sips, then passes it to Hiyoshi. He takes a sip then hands it back to Kirihara. They do that for awhile until the can is empty. 

.

Niou runs his fingers along a CD rack at his favorite music shop, the small one near his old house. When he walked in, the guy behind the counter said he hadn’t seen his face in awhile. Niou decides not to crack a joke about getting expelled for sucking dick because he likes this shop and wants to be able to come back regardless of who is working. Instead, he ends up shrugging vaguely and saying he had to move. The guy points him in the direction of some cool bands so Niou can’t complain. 

The shop is old and has stains in weird places, but he used to spend all of his time and money here. Music has always been a way to calm himself when marijuana couldn’t. Even though the dank smell of pot smoke calms him as he thumbs through CDs of bands he doesn’t recognize, the gentle buzz of music from the speakers calms him even more. He wonders if Marui would like this place.

_Shit, I’ve got it bad_ , he thinks. 

His attention is drawn away from the CDs when he hears a familiar guitar intro followed by Marui’s voice. Niou has always loved Zero to Hero because the singer’s voice is rough, not perfect, but it’s still so smooth and controlled. It’s impossible not to be impressed and swept up by the emotion in his voice, like right now. 

He looks around the store, but no one is using the CD player at the front. The music is coming from above from whatever radio station the store is hooked up to. 

Niou grabs a CD he had heard about on that pirate radio station Marui is always listening to and goes up to the counter. “What station is this?” he asks. When he gets an answer, he pulls out his phone and calls Marui.

“Hey,” Marui says. Niou tries not to smile; he considers that he may be little worse off than he initially thought. “Are you high or something?”

“No.”

“Just wondering. You never call so it’s a little weird is all. What’s up?”

“Make Out Kids is playing on the radio.”

“Are you listening to Pyrite 101? They play our stuff all the time. Krewella taught Kato drums and—“

“No, it’s on the radio. A legitimate, legal station.”

“Which one?”

Niou repeats what the guy had told him. He hears Marui running around frantically, swearing several times, and Niou listens with an amused smirk. A few moments later, he hears Make Out Kids echoed through the phone. 

_“And we sing:_

_“Hooray for the madness, we are better by design._   
_Let's hope we'll never have to say goodbye,_   
_Say goodbye.”_

The echo doesn’t last for long because Marui starts to talk again. Niou can picture the red head’s stupid smile.

“That’s my song. That’s my song!”

Marui ends up singing the rest of the song into Niou’s ear while he buys the CD and heads out of the shop. He wonders if his old dealer is still around and debates picking something up. He’s running a little low and he could share it with Marui, maybe. Niou is walking towards the train station when the song and Marui’s singing end.

“Thanks for telling me,” Marui finally says. “That’s the first time I’ve heard our music anywhere but Pyrite. That was awesome.”

Niou grins, but keeps his voice masked, “Yeah, whatever. How’d the interview with Jaeger Bombs go?”

“It was amazing! Everyone was so nice, and the questions weren’t superficial at all, and Kato was able to talk about her depression without getting upset and I’m so proud of her. It went better than I expected.” Marui takes a pause to breath. Niou nearly laughs at how overly excited he is. Marui says, “Except they didn’t have food and I thought they would so now I’m starving. I was in the kitchen getting something when you called and nearly killed myself running up the stairs.”

That’s what that rustling noise had been? 

“Do you wanna hang out or something?” Marui asks. “I could intake my weight in food and tell you all about it.”

“Alright.”

“Where do you live? I don’t want you to go out of your way to hang out or anything.”

“I’ll be back in town in an hour.”

“That’s way too long. Do you just want to meet at my house?”

“Well, that would work if I had any idea where you lived.”

Marui laughs and says, “I’ll text you my address.”

When Marui learns that Niou bought a new CD, he demands that they listen to it. They sit in the sound proofed basement where Zero to Hero practices so they can play Niou’s new CD as loud as they want. The room smells like old pizza and drum polish. Marui looks so at home that Niou feels like he’s intruding, but when Marui tells him to sit wherever, that feeling disappears. 

Niou sits on the floor while they listen to the entire CD together, sharing their similar opinions on each song. Marui sprawls out on his back on a sofa, occasionally looking at Niou and ask what a song is called. By the end of each song, Marui has picked up on the chorus and will sing along if he likes it enough. Occasionally he’ll sing the wrong words and he’ll laugh at himself, and Niou smiles at nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song was “Make Out Kids” by Motion City Soundtrack.


	13. Chapter 13

_Zero to Hero is a pop-rock band in the underground scene that all of you up to date hipsters and music junkies have heard about. Their debut and sequel album, Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, have been selling like crazy since their jaw-dropping performance at the Circus. This high school band is going far and fast._

_You guys have gotten a lot of new fans lately, and you’re a decent sized band by today’s standards. Who does what exactly?_

**_Marui:_ ** _I’m the lead vocalist. I write and compose ninety percent of the songs._  
 **_Oyama:_ ** _I sing backup and play lead guitar._  
 **_Urayama:_ ** _I play a lot of things, but I’ve only ever played guitar, keyboard, and violin in our published songs._  
 **_Kuwahara:_ ** _I play bass._ **_  
Kato:_ ** _I’m the percussionist._

_How did this band form? Just listening to you talk with each other while you were waiting to get going, I could tell you’re all very different people. Not just in the way you dress, but in how you talk and interact._

**_Kuwahara:_ ** _Marui and I have known each other since we were really young. My family moved here from Brazil and my Japanese was absolutely horrible. Marui was the only person who could put up with me because he was too busy talking to realize that I couldn’t._  
 **_Marui:_ ** _Hey. Don’t make me sound like an ass._  
 **_Kuwahara:_ ** _He came up with the idea to make a band when were eight. It seemed like a cool idea so I learned bass, also because it seemed cool, and he learned to write music and compose. When we were second years in junior high, we started looking for other people.  
_ **_Kato:_ ** _Jackal (Kuwahara) had this massive crush on my best friend, who mentioned that I played drums to him. I played on buckets in Marui’s nasty basement instead of a full drum set. *laughs* The only reason I joined was because my friend thought Jackal was cute and needed and excuse to hang out with him._

_What about you two, Urayama and Oyama? You’re both two years younger than your three bandmates. How did you fit in to all of this?_

**_Kato:_ ** _It’s so confusing._  
 **_Urayama:_ ** _The girl Jackal had a crush on was friends with a guy, who was friends with another guy, who knew this skater kid, who accidentally ran into me once and broke my arm. The skater guy learned that I could play piano and Kenta (Oyama) could play guitar. We ended up auditioning and they liked us enough to let us join.  
_ **_Oyama:_ ** _We were first years and they were third years. We’ve been playing together just short of four years now._

_The debut of your first album would have been right after you two joined then, right?_

**_Urayama:_ ** _It was, like, four months?_  
 **_Oyama:_ ** _Closer to five. We released it halfway through summer break._  
 **_Urayama:_ ** _I had to learn guitar really quickly because Marui wrote songs that needed two guitars. Marui kept mentioning wanting to do things with different instruments so I started picking up whatever he mentioned.  
_ **_Marui:_ ** _We have some friends who helped us record and edit our songs for the album._

_Now you’ve re-released that album at a higher quality with two new songs, and you recently released your second album. From what your manager told me when he set up this interview, the sales are going well. Some pretty well respected music gurus are saying you guys are the next big thing. What do you think about that?_

**_Kato:_ **_Hell yeah we are._  
 **_Marui:_ ** _Everyone in this band is beyond talented and we’re willing to fight for our future in this industry. There are other bands fighting for attention, and we’re going to keep going until someone stops us.  
_ **_Kuwahara:_ ** _Their egos aside, we’re hoping the band sticks around for awhile. We’re still going to play even if our music doesn’t sell in the future._

_People are always surprised to hear you’re high schoolers. You write some pretty deep stuff for being eighteen, Marui._

**_Marui:_ ** _I just write about things that are going on my life, or the lives of people who are important to me._  
 **_Kuwahara:_ ** _That’s bull. Half of the time he just writes what sounds cool.  
_ **_Marui:_ ** _*laughs* Sometimes I write what sounds cool. But a lot of it is just writing about all the crap teenagers like us are going through every day._

_One of the biggest songs from your new album is “One More Weekend.” What kind of “crap” inspired you to write that?_

**_Marui:_ ** _At the time, one of my dear friends was very suicidal._ ****  
_**Kato:** _ _F*****g hell. Dear friend? I’m not dead._  
 **_Marui:_ ** _I didn’t know if you were okay talking about it or not!_  
 **_Urayama:_ ** _She said she was on the way here. You were too busy texting you-know-who.  
_ ******_Kato:_** _I suffered from clinical depression for about two years during junior high and most of my first year in high school. All of the adults around me wrote it off as teenage hormones and rebellion. The only people who believed me were the guys in the band and a small group of good friends. They got me the helped I needed; I got into therapy, got some meds, and I still see someone regularly today._

_There’s a trio of songs from your albums that many of your fans associated with depression. Are “A Life Less Ordinary (Need A Little Help)” and “The Reckless And The Brave” also about your depression?_

**_Marui:_ ** _When I learned Kato was suicidal, I had no idea what to do or how to help so I ended up writing a couple of songs. “One More Weekend” was written out of fear that she would kill herself and I would never see her again. The two songs you mentioned weren’t for her specifically, but they were aimed at anyone who felt like we did._

_Marui, you just said “anyone who felt like we did.” Why “we”? Were you also depressed?_

**_Marui:_ ** _Not like she was. I was fifteen when I wrote Life Less Ordinary; I’d just had my heart broken and I just didn’t feel like I fit in. I always found an escape in music. It always helped. I wanted to be as honest as I could so that if some kid like me listens to my music, they don’t feel like crap anymore.  
_ **_Urayama:_ ** _That’s the whole point of the band. It’s so we don’t feel bad, and so that others don’t have to feel bad when they hear us play._

. 

The picture that goes along with the two page, centerfold spread makes Kato grin. Instead of going with the perfect, posed picture they spent twenty minutes taking, they went with a picture of them sitting around and waiting for their interviewer to show up. Oyama has gummy worms hanging out of his mouth, Urayama is on Kato’s lap, and Jackal and Marui are laughing so hard they’re in tears. 

Kato’d gotten up earlier than she usually does on weekends (which is usually well after noon), and picked up the magazine and a new pack of cigarettes. She goes to a sketchy place that doesn’t check her ID as long as she walks with confidence and acts like she’s legal. She’s well aware those sticks will kill her, which was exactly what she wanted when she started smoking at fifteen. She thinks about quitting from time to time, but never does.

Before going inside, she stops outside of her house at the mailbox, grabbing the envelopes and newspaper from inside. She flicks through the mail for university letters, but there aren’t any. She sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering, “Fucking figures.”

She knows it’s early, but she’d be happy with a confirmation that they schools have received her applications at this point, or for any information on entrance exams. She wonders if Aiko or the others are having the same issue. This whole growing up thing sucks.

She’s about to go inside to get breakfast when she hears, “You’re up early.”

She turns and sees Sanada, dripping in sweat and slightly out of breath. It’s not a bad look. 

“You ran all the way here?” Kato asks. Sanada’s house is about an hour away if you walk abnormally fast. “What the hell is wrong with you, Hat?”

“It’s part of my new route. I have a tournament in two weeks,” Sanada says. _Kendo_ , she thinks. Figures.“I can’t slack off, even on weekends.”

“Which tournament?”

“Prefectural. If I place first or second, I can take place in Regionals, and the top three from there can go to Nationals.” 

Most people wouldn’t worry if they were in his shoes. He easily made it to Regionals last year, and he would have placed in the top three there if there wasn’t that scare with Yukimura falling down the day before. Despite knowing that he’s better than everyone else around him, Sanada doesn’t stop training. Kato admires that. He’d be boring if he couldn’t manage that much.

“Renji said your interview turned out well,” Sanada mentions, glancing at the magazine in her hand. “I haven’t had the chance to read it yet.”

“It’s just an interview, but hopefully more people will get into our music because of it. The cashier thought I was fucking nuts for reading it without buying it.” Kato rolls her eyes and Sanada smiles, barely. “You probably don’t even have to buy it. I think Bowl is planning on buying a shit ton for us to sign so he can sell them. That guy is kind of an evil mastermind.”

“In all fairness, so are you.”

“Hat, you’re going to make me swoon if you flatter me like that.” Kato puts a hand to her heart and grins at him. He sighs, shaking his head slightly, but he is not nearly as exasperated as he is acting. She asks, “Shouldn’t you get back to running before your heart rate drops or something?”

“I should. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, whatever, Hat.”

When he jogs away, Kato sits on the steps leading up to her front door and lights up a cigarette.

.

Aiko rings the doorbell on Urayama’s apartment, waiting for someone to come and get the door. She shifts the straps of her backpack. When Urayama opens the door, smiling, she smiles back.

“Did you bring them?” Urayama asks. Aiko holds up a bag from the music shop near her house. Urayama jumps. “Yay! Come in. Do you want anything to eat?”

She follows Urayama back to his bedroom where Oyama is playing some shooter game. There’s an enormous bowl of popcorn and several bags of candy, which she has no doubt were brought over by Oyama. Urayama has a drum pad on his bed where he sits; the boy is stretching his arms out to Aiko in a ‘gimme’ motion. Aiko hands him a copy of the new issue of Jaeger Bombs then drops her bag to the floor and sits on the sofa next to Oyama.

“I bought you a copy, too, Oyama,” Aiko says. Oyama pauses his game and she hands him his copy. He flips through it idly before going back to the centerfold. 

“Have you read it?” Urayama asks her.

“I did in the shop. Krewella was bragging that she taught Kato how to play.”

“I’ve never met Krewella. Is she nice? She acts a lot like Kato on the radio.”

Aiko hums, taking a moment to think about how to describe Krewella. Eventually, she says, “It’s mostly a radio persona. She’s really nice in real life. The next time Kato wants to go see her, I’ll let you know so you can come along.”

Urayama smiles, then begins to flip through the magazine to find the interview. She’s tempted to re-read the entire thing over Oyama’s shoulder, but decides she would rather sleep on his shoulder instead. He’s so much taller than her that when she leans her head against him, she hits his arm instead of his shoulder. Oyama looks at her.

“Do you want a pillow?” he asks.

“No. I can move if this bothers you.”

“I don’t mind. Are you alright?”

Aiko nods awkwardly. “I’m a little tired. I started a book last night and thought I would only read a chapter or two, but I ended up reading the entire thing. I had a breakfast date with some girlfriends so I couldn’t sleep in.”

“Okay. If you change your mind about the pillow, let me know.”

Oyama isn’t a big talker so she appreciates the small conversations she has with him more than she usually would otherwise. After a few minutes of quiet rest, she sits up straight and pulls out her laptop out of her bag to search for a Christmas gift for Jackal.

.

In the back of the Kuwahara family restaurant, Marui and Jackal read the interview three times before they look at the rest of the magazine. It takes them a few hours to get through the entire issue because Jackal has to cook with his father and Marui has to go take orders and bus tables. They laugh at the gossip pages, and argue over the other featured bands, and then go back to re-read the interview with their band because they still can’t believe it actually exists.

When the lunch rush comes in, Jackal is drawn away to cook and Marui is running back and forth from the kitchen with orders, drinks, and food. He counts and pockets his tips, grinning when he realizes he has enough for that CD Niou and he had listened to the other day. He briefly wonders if Niou’s read the interview in Jaeger Bombs yet, but he doesn’t have time to linger on the thought because Jackal’s mom tells him she just seated a party of six at table eight. Marui grabs his order book and goes out. He can text Niou when he’s on break.

The restaurant is relatively small, but it provides a steady income and they make a more than decent profit from it. Jackal’s always helped out where he can and plans on working there after high school instead of going to university. Marui sometimes picks up shifts as a waiter or bus boy to help out the Kuwahara’s and to pay for band-related things, like gas for Jackal’s father’s vans and the infinite jars of honey he has bought over the years for his throat. 

The kitchen is uncomfortably hot, but Jackal’s father lets his son pick the music, which is one of the few reasons Marui can stand being within a ten foot distance of the grills and stoves. Marui calls out the orders then sticks the paper copies on the rack. He lingers while the two men cook, talking in a language Marui doesn’t understand and laughing together.

“What’re you staring at, boy?” Jackal’s father asks jokingly. 

“Nothing,” Marui says. “Would it be alright if I signed up for another shift next weekend?”

“What do you need so much money for all the sudden? You usually only work this hard when you guys are planning to record.”

“It’s for CDs I want. Niou’s gotten me addicted to all these cool bands and I hate downloading songs illegally.” As a musician who gets part of his own CD sales, Marui knows that small bands appreciate every bit of that money. He has nothing against illegally downloading music, it just isn't something he does. “Plus Christmas is coming up. So is it okay, Kuwahara-san?”

“Just put your name on the schedule. Doesn’t matter when. You’re always welcome here. And here’s the appetizer for table six.”

Marui spends the rest of the early afternoon waitering and busing the tables. By the end of the lunch rush, the other waiter has shown up for his shift and Marui can finally take his break. He goes up to Jackal’s bedroom where his phone is charging, shoves a piece of gum in his mouth, and checks his messages. He grins like a fool when he sees Niou’s name.

_what was the magazine called again?_   
_some drink right?_   
_nm found it_

Marui responds, _What’d you think?_

He doesn’t expect an answer right away so he goes out of his messages to make a post on the twitter reminding people to check out the magazine if they have the money. He’s halfway through typing the tweet when Niou responds. He blows a bubble and opens the message.

_you look stupid in the pic_

_Shut up. I looked way cooler the one they were supposed to use._

_doubt that_

_I did!_   
_What are you up to?_   
_I get off work at 5 if you wanna hang out._

_ok. im not doing anything so I can meet u then  
where do you work?_

Marui texts him the name of the restaurant, then heads downstairs to get back to work. He blows a large bubble and nods his head to the music in the kitchen. He spits out his gum and falls back into work, making sure drinks are kept full and does every other small thing that leads to better tips. When he’s in the back, he sings along to Jackal’s music with the other waiting staff and the chefs. 

As Marui carefully arranges plates of food onto a tray to be taken out into the dining room, Jackal’s father asks, “Has Hinata come in yet?”

“The new waitress with the black hair that wears a bow a lot?” Marui asks. The chef nods. “No, she hasn’t. Is she scheduled? I thought Yamato was supposed to come in.”

“Yamato’s got the flu. Hinata said she would cover.”

“I’ll call her after I get this order out.”

He delivers the food then comes back, grabbing the cord phone from its spot on the wall and glancing at the clock. It’s ten of five. He hopes luck and the gods of love are on his side and that this girl will come in, but they’re not. He hangs up, sighing.

“Kuwahara-san, Hinata’s bike chain got messed up so she has to take the train. The next one doesn’t come for ten minutes, and it’ll be a twenty minute ride here, then another fifteen from the station.”

“Anyone who can cover?”

“I can stick around.”

“You’re a godsent.”

“Marui-kun!” Jackal’s mom calls. “A young man with the strangest white-hair just came in looking for you. I put him at table one.”

Jackal looks at Marui and grins. “Niou?” Marui points at his friend and tells him to shut up. “Definitely Niou,” Jackal says.

Marui heads out to the front and spots Niou sitting in the front of the room, looking over the menu. Niou is wearing tight, dark jeans that show off his long legs and a beanie that presses hair flat to his forehead. He doesn’t have any of facial piercings in, and his ears are also lacking a lot of their usual metal. He looks up at Marui with a damn smirk on his lips that Marui can’t figure out.

“Hey,” Marui says. “Turns out I’m going to be a bit longer because a waitress hasn’t shown up yet and I need to cover until she does. Dinner rush is about to start and I can’t just leave.”

"How long are you going to be?”

“Like, thirty minutes minimum.” Niou doesn’t react. Marui kind of wishes he had. “The appetizers and desserts come out really quick if you want something. Everything here is ridiculously good. I’ll pay for it.”

“What is this, a date?”

“Did you think this was a date?”

Instead of answering, Niou says, “Don’t you have a fuck buddy?”

“We broke up. Well, that’s the wrong choice of words because we weren’t really dating. You know what I mean.” Marui gestures towards the menu. “So you want anything?”

“I could be a jerk and ask for the most expensive thing on the menu, but I’m not going to.”

“My hero,” Marui says sarcastically.

“Just water.”

Marui heads back to the kitchen, writing out an order on his pad, and heads into the kitchen. He calls out an order for custard tarts, sticks the paper copy on the rack, then gets Niou his drink and waits for the dessert. It takes about ten minutes and when it’s done, Marui takes it out with table three’s order. He heads over to Niou’s table with a glass of water and a plate of sweets.

“I was wondering why it took so long to get water,” Niou says, looking at the plate. “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

“I got you something anyways. Mostly because I wanted one.” Marui pops an entire tart into his mouth, smiles, and takes nearly a full minute to chew and swallow. “Custard tarts. They’re awesome.”

Niou rolls his eyes, but when Marui leaves, he sees Niou pick up a tart. 

.

When the waitress comes in for her shift, apologizing profusely and red-faced from running, Marui strips out of his apron and hurries upstairs to grab his phone. He shouts a quick good-bye to Jackal, his father, and the other workers over the girl’s apology, then heads out of the kitchen. With a fresh piece of gum between his teeth, he walks up to Niou’s table and asks, “Ready to go?”

“Don’t you have to pay?” Niou sounds more amused than concerned. Marui likes that about him—or maybe he just likes the bad boy cliché in general. 

“Kuwahara-san said he’d cover it since I worked extra. What do you want to do? There’s this awesome music shop near here, or we could go to my house again.”

“There’s a park near here.”

Marui frowns, eyebrows pressing together in confusion. “Uh, sure. Do you know the way?”

They leave the restaurant and head towards a small local park that Niou looked up on his phone while he was waiting for Marui. The red head shoves his hands into his pockets and blows a bubble, wishing he had worn a hat like Niou. It’s cold.

“Why don’t you have all of your piercings in?” Marui asks curiously.

“The metal gets too cold. I can keep the metal ones that are in my hips and my tongue. Everything in my ears are plastic or wood.” 

“Your tongue is pierced?” Niou sticks out his tongue and the way he looks at Marui turns him on. “That’s wicked. Do you have tattoos or anything?”

“I want them, but my dad draws the line at piercings. He said I can get them when I graduate. My sister is designing them.”

“You have a sister?”

“She’s a few years older than me. I have a younger brother, too. What about you?”

“Two younger brothers. They’re little shits, and I’m not exaggerating. My dad calls them Little Shit One and Little Shit Two when they’re in trouble.”

Niou laughs and Marui is caught off guard by his voice. Every time he forgets, he’s reminded how much he loves Niou’s voice.

The park is empty this time of year and the trees are naked without their leaves. They walk along the path silently until Niou veers off course to the swing set. He jumps onto the swing, standing on the seat and gripping the rusty chains. Marui rolls his eyes. He leans against the metal frame of the set while Niou tries to get momentum to swing.

“So I was going to buy that CD we listened to the other day,” Marui says. “I did some research and they have an older album. I listened to some of the tracks online and it sounds good. I may pick that up too. Wanna listen to it when I do?”

“Sure. I can show you that indie band I’ve been talking about.”

“The one with the female singer?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

Niou gets enough movement to swing back and forth, and he grins at Marui. Niou doesn’t seem like the person to this, to jump on a swing set like a child with a stupid grin, and that only makes Marui smile more.  

There’s something about Niou that makes Marui want to act stupid. It’s not the over abundance of piercings, or his stereotypical delinquent attitude, and it isn’t the way he makes Marui’s thoughts overly poetic. It isn’t any one thing; it’s everything. Niou’s blue eyes promise crazy adventures and his smile is never just a smile. His laughter is infectious, his easy attitude calms Marui’s anxieties, and every little thing he does makes Marui feel alive.

It’s exciting. _Niou_ is exciting. 

Marui moves away from the frame of the swing set and towards the other seat. He climbs up like he’s stepping onto a ladder, the chain cold in his hand, and wonders how often Niou does this to make it look so easy. He nearly falls on his ass when he pulls up his body and sets his second foot on the seat.

“If I die, tell the band my unfinished songs are under my bed.”

Niou grins slyly. Then he reaches over, grasping the chain of Marui’s swing. Marui swears and protests, but Niou won’t let go. They shake back and forth, wobbling, until Marui reaches over and grabs one of Niou’s chains. They stabilize and Marui doesn’t think he’s in immediate danger of cracking his skull open.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve done in forever,” Marui admits.

“We got high in the girls’ bathroom during detention.”

“Fine. This is the dumbest thing I’ve done since we got high in the girls’ bathroom during detention.”

Together they manage to swing in unison, getting so high that Marui screams that this was a horrible idea and they’re doing to die. Niou jumps off in a high arch, leaving Marui to swing wildly. The red head grips his chains for dear life until he comes to a slow, gradual stop. Niou sits in the grass and watches him.

“You’re the devil,” Marui says, stepping off carefully and walking over. He sits down on the ground and yanks up a fistful of grass to toss at Niou. “What idiot taught you to do that?”

“My mother,” Niou says, a small hint of longing in his voice that Marui doesn’t quite catch. Niou is too subtle, too conscious of everything he does to let Marui hear it. “We had a swing set in my old house. She’d push my sister, brother, and I on the swings when we were driving her up a wall.”

“Your mom sounds cool.” 

Niou picks at the grass. The noise barely makes it out of his throat where it vibrates, quiet and deep, “Hmm.”

“So that indie band?” Marui asks, switching subjects. 

They sit and talk about music, and their classes, and a stupid viral video they’re both tired of seeing. Their conversations are insignificant, but before they know it, the sun is setting and the sidewalk lights have kicked on. Marui blows a large bubble when their conversation finally starts to slow. He doesn’t want to stop talking. He doesn’t want to give Niou the opportunity to leave. Then, an idea comes to him.

“What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done?” Marui asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I hate it when you say that.”

Niou grins. “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve gone? Excluding swinging with me and smoking with me.”

“Well, it’s not really dumb or crazy, but it’s the most fun I remember having.” Marui leans back on his hands while Niou continues to watch him. “Last year during spring break, the whole gang was at Yukimura’s beach house. On our last night there, we made this giant bonfire on the beach and stayed out all night. We weren’t even drunk but we acted like it. Akaya was stripping, and we were all throwing fireworks into the fire, and we were taking bets to see who had the balls to skinny dip in the ocean. Jackal jumped through the fire, and Kato and I spent the entire night trying to pants each other, and it was just…”

Marui can’t find the word.

“It felt like something that real people don’t do, you know? It was something people in books or movies do, not real life, but we did it and it was fun.” 

Niou is silent for a moment and Marui wonders if he screwed up everything by saying something stupid. Then, with a straight face and a slightly challenging tone, Niou says, “I was expelled because I was caught sucking dick in the school bathroom.” 

“Is that why you transferred here during the third week of the semester?”

“Yes.” Marui laughs. Niou stares at him. “What was funny about that?”

“You said it with such a straight face!”

Marui laughs until it hurts. Meanwhile, Niou rolls his eyes and lies down in the grass next to him. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Sanada closes his eyes. He tightens his grip around the wooden practice sword in front of him, his fingers falling into place without having to readjust. He inhales deeply through his nose, breathing in the sharp, burning scent of the gym, like the janitors cleaned last night. There is nothing in front of him, but in his mind, he sees his opponent, and strikes.

There is no force to counter act his sword, but he imagines it, imagines having to strain and hold back his opponent, pushing their swords together. One slip up is all it takes. Speed, strength, cunning, all of it matters. He steps back quickly, holds his sword nearly vertical, waits before moving again. 

The sword slices through the silent air. Would his opponent counter it? Would he make his mark? He goes through every scenario he can imagine, picturing ever mistake he could make, every mistake his opponent could face. Then he steps back and lowers his sword, exhaling deeply.

He hears clapping and opens his eyes. He turns, quickly seeing the source of the noise, and relaxes when he realizes it is Yukimura, who is walking towards him.

“You know,” Yukimura says, no longer clapping, “I always thought you looked like you were dancing when you do that.”

“This is my last practice until the tournament.” Sanada lowers his sword to his side and wipes the sweat from his head. “There’s nothing more to do.”

Yukimura stops near him and takes the sword from him. He gives it a few rough swings, smiling. “I was never good at kendo in grade school.”

“You were too busy thinking about skateboard tricks.”

Yukimura’s smile drops. He returns the sword. He smiles again. “Probably.”

Sanada glances at the clock on the gym wall. “You’re here early. School doesn’t start for another half hour.”

“I need a transcript for my college applications. I had to meet with my guidance counselor to get them sent to the right places.” Yukimura sighs, frowning pensively. “I’m still not sure if I’m excited or not about graduating. There’s a lot of good things, but I think I’m going to miss everyone. Are you sad?”

“Sad isn’t the right word,” Sanada says. “I don’t like to think about it as if it’s over. We still have another week of this semester, then our last semester. There's also summer. A lot can happen during that time.”

“That’s true. I haven’t thought about it like that. I wonder if I’ll get a girlfriend.”

Sanada rolls his eyes. “You’re not that shallow.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll become that shallow in a semester.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

“I am not.” Yukimura shoves gently at Sanada, getting the boy to smile, just barely. Yukimura says, “Not all of us have pretty girls who like us, you know.”

“That is bullshit. I know at least ten girls who would date and another five would be happy to be in your bed without dating you.”

Yukimura laughs. “You said _bullshit_.”

Sanada sighs, unconsciously adjusting the single-handed grip on his sword. “Seiichi, you’re not twelve.”

“I remember when you wouldn’t swear, or drink, and you thought any girl who wore a short skirt was a whore. You thought I was a punk for skateboarding. I think you were convinced I would grow up to look like Niou or something, with all these tattoos and piercings.”

“You couldn’t pull off tattoos or piercings.”

“I’m offended.”

“And I’m sweaty. I need to shower before class.”

Sanada begins to head towards the club room and Yukimura follows, asking, “What made you change?” He sounds serious, like he honestly wants to know. Yukimura’s never really thought about it. The change had been gradual. Less comments about the clothes people wore, or how people acted, a little curse here or there. Yukimura can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened. By the time he realized it had happened, it was already over.

Sanada shrugs. “I met someone who changed my mind.”

“Ah.” Yukimura smiles.

“I hate it when you get that look and you know it.”

“What look?”

“ _Seiichi_.”

 .

Marui sits at his desk and scribbles lyrics ion the side of his notes. He has at least three slight different versions of the same song written out, most lines crossed out, others circled and heavily edited. There's arrows pointing everywhere but Marui is able to follow them. He pieces it together on the next page. 

_ “If I stand too close I might fall in, _   
_But if I’m too far gone I’ll never win._   
_If you believe in me, I might just want to spend some time with you again.”_

When the lunch bell rings and their teacher leaves, half the class sighs in relief. Marui turns in his seat to look at Niou, who catches the red head out of the corner of his eye and returns his gaze. Niou takes out on his hidden headphones to listen to him. 

“Lecture is so boring today,” Marui complains. “Every topic is just reviewing for our finals. I stopped listening after history.”

“I’m impressed you lasted that long.” Marui grins, but Niou doesn’t return it. He stares past Marui out the windows. “I want to get out of here.”

Marui recognizes that phrase. Kato used to say that.

“Hey,” Marui says, a slight edge to his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Not like that. Just out of school for today.”

“Oh. Well, we only have a few more hours.”

“That’s too long. Do you know how to sneak out of here without getting caught? I only know about a few of the cameras’ blind spots, but none of them help when getting out of the building.”

Marui remembers when Kato still went to school with them during their first year of high school, before her mom caught her smoking and decided she needed a more strict learning environment. Kato has always been a rebel, and Marui was self-hating and destructive and didn’t care. They used to skip out at least once a month and head to music shops or just wander around talking. 

“Grab your bag and let’s go,” Marui says. Niou shrugs, does as he’s told, and follows Marui out the room. They pass by gossiping students in the hall and head to a stairwell. As they descend to the first floor, Marui says, “The school only checks the cameras if they need proof of a fight or something like that. They’re too cheap to hire someone to check them all the time so as long as you don’t walk out the front door, you won’t get caught.”

“Then it looks like I waisted my time scooping out the place my first week here.”

“I only know because I’m friends with Yukimura and his parents are on the school board.”

“Is there anything he isn’t involved in?” 

“Not that I can think of.”

They leave through the side door, walking along the outer edge of the school grounds and leaving through the back gate. There’s a chill in the air but it isn’t completely unpleasant after the sun hits their skin. There is no drama, not climatic chase, but Marui feels better than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s doing something he wants instead of something he should, or maybe it’s Niou. Maybe it’s both.

“We skipped lunch,” Marui says. “Wanna get something?”

“Okay.”

They decide on the small burger joint near school. After they order and sit at a booth, Niou disappears into the bathroom. Marui takes out his phone and texts Ren that he just skipped with Niou. She replies quickly,

_Seriously?_   
_Why didn’t you take me with you?_   
_I’m so damn bored._

_ Sorry. Spur of the moment.  
Next time?  _

_I’m just kidding!_   
_I only would have cockblocked you._   
_Let me know how it goes._

Niou comes back from the bathroom with all of his piercing in—his ears, his eyebrow, and probably his tongue. It’s the first time Marui’s gotten a good look at Niou with all of his piercings. Until now, he’s only seen Niou wear them at Yukimura’s party and the Circus, neither of which had the best lighting. The last few times they’ve met, Niou hasn't been wearing his facial piercings because of the cold. Marui _really_ likes how Niou looks right now.

Niou sits across from Marui, takes the top off his burger, and proceeds to dump half the bottle of ketchup onto his meal. Marui is a little disgusted by it but he can’t stop watching. It’s like watching a murder scene when Niou takes the first bite.

Marui isn’t phased once he gets over the surprise of _holy fuck, that’s a lot of ketchup_ , and starts to eat. He’s seen weirder. Kirihara likes to stick everything into milkshakes. Not just fries or chicken nuggets, but onion rings and mozzarella sticks. It’s a train wreck that usually leaves Marui sick to his stomach. 

“You get pretty good grades for someone who skips and listens to music all day,” Marui says.

Niou looks at him over his food. “Is that supposed to be an insult? It’s not a very good one.”

“No. It’s just kind of weird. You’re kind of weird.”

Niou doesn’t reply. Marui drops it, afraid of screwing this up, whatever _this_ is. 

They eat in relative silence, though it isn’t uncomfortable. Niou finishes his burger and gives Marui his leftover fries. The food is greasy and salty, and Marui will regret at some point, but right now it tastes like the best damn thing in the world. 

“I want to get high,” Niou says, sounding wistful. 

Marui picks at what’s left of Niou’s fries. “Then go get high. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”

“It’s more fun with others.” Niou cocks his head and looks at Marui, blue eyes staring at him, not through him like they used to. “Want to?”

Marui never clearly remembered what happened the last time he got high with Niou, like the entire time was a fuzzy blur, but he remembers it was fun. Niou smiled, and laughed. Marui wrote music that made no sense, but just like the food and skipping for no reason, it felt right. 

“Yeah,” Marui agrees. “Where?”

Niou takes a moment to think. There’s no point in sneaking out of school if you’re just going to sneak back in, so that isn’t an option. Smoking in public is stupid for any number of reasons, mainly because he doesn’t know this area like he knew the last town he was in. Smoke can cling to bedsheets and carpet, and Marui’s parents probably give a damn, so Marui’s house is out too.

“My house,” Niou says. Even if they could do it elsewhere, he only has enough to get him high and would need to get more if he wanted Marui to join him. 

“Cool. Let me finish eating.”

Niou sinks down into the booth, head tilted back comfortably on some hard piece of plastic, and waits. He hasn’t smoked with anyone since Yagyuu, and it is more fun with people, especially when the other party involved is an attractive red head with a nice ass. Niou glances at Marui, who is dipping his fries into his milkshake. Niou grins and stares at a spot on the ceiling until Marui is done. 

They walk to Niou’s shabby, two-story house in relative silence. Occasionally Marui’s bubble pops, until he accidentally chokes on his gum and swallows it. Niou swears and complains about the winter coldness. He hates the summer because it’s hot and the winter because it’s cold. 

“It smells like snow,” Marui comments. Niou glances at him, but doesn't say anything, and Marui must interpret his glance as confusion because he adds, “You know that dry, crisp smell? It’s snow. The air feels heavier and the clouds look like snow, too.”

“The weather forecast said nothing about snow.”

“It’ll probably flurry.”

(It does, light and lazy when Marui has left Niou’s house with an enormous smile.)

Niou digs his keys out of his pocket and opens the front door, mentioning to Marui that no one is home or will be home for quite some time. Marui grins and says he’s forward. Niou returns his grin, raising his eyebrows and flashing his tongue piercing, and Marui laughs. 

The last box had officially been unpacked a week ago, but the house is bare. There are no flowers or decorative pillows, nor is there an overabundance of family photos. There are a few recent photos of Niou and his siblings scattered along the wall next to pictures from when things were better, when they were still a proper family. Niou leads Marui up the stairs without glancing at the photos on the wall. If Marui notices that his mother is missing from the more recent photos, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Niou’s bedroom is an organized chaos without a single open space on his desk or dresser. Posters of bands clutter the wall; Marui notices that a few have autographs. Stacks of CDs sit next to an expensive looking radio, some cases more worn than others, and a large collection of novels lines the top shelf of his desk. The room smells strongly of febreze and faintly of smoke. _It fits him_ , Marui thinks. 

Niou tells him to sit anywhere, then begins to mess with the pile of CDs on his dresser. Marui sits on the bed near the window, watching Niou, who finally decides on a band called Dresses. The music is happy and not as heavy as what Marui is used to listening to, and he likes the way it sticks in his head without getting annoying. The first time Niou had shared the band with him, Marui had felt a strange sense of pride, a small joy in being let into Niou’s mind. Music says a lot about a person and Niou loves music.

Niou takes a small locked box out of the top drawer of his dresser, pulls a key from in-between two books on his desk, and sits on the bed near Marui. Inside the box, there’s a small bag of pot, a few joints, and an intricate glass bubbler with twisting colors. Niou takes out a joint and a lighter, then closes the box and sets on the floor next to the key.

When Niou raises the joint to light it, Marui speaks up.

“You’re not going to open the window or anything?” Niou shakes his head. “But don’t your parents smell the smoke if you don’t air out the room?”

“It’s fine.”

Niou holds the joint between his lips and lights the end, sucking in and breathing out a cloud of white-gray smoke. He drops the lighter to the floor then leans back on his free hand, closing his eyes and relishing the familiar taste and smell. All the anxiety and stress he usually feels disappears and he feels _good_. It takes longer for the chemicals in his brain to react than it used to, but there is no need to hurry now, not when his music is playing and Marui is with him.

Niou takes several long drags before passing off the joint to Marui. The red head holds the joint like some woman from an old film and Niou smirks.

“Don’t take as many hits as I did,” Niou cautions. “You’re tolerance is a lot lower than mine and this is high quality shit.”

“How often do you smoke?” Marui inhales for less than a second and when he exhales, Niou can’t even see the smoke on his breath. 

“Three or four times a week. Sometimes more. Sometimes less.”

Marui takes another hit, but it’s significantly longer this time. He doesn’t cough or sputter since his lungs are used to inhaling large amounts of air and Kato’s second hand smoke. He passes it back to Niou, who holds it in his hand instead of pressing it to his lips. They sit silently for a few minutes, breathing in the lingering smoke and listening to the music without saying anything.

Then Niou sits up fully, back hunched and posture lazy. Marui thought the conversation was long since over, but Niou adds, “I don’t have my circle and like I said, doing it alone isn’t as fun. So I do it less.”

“You had a circle?”

“I had a thing for this guy and he invited me to smoke with his friends. I’d never done it, but I wanted to and I wanted in his pants, so…” Niou shrugs. “He had a bong and I got in his pants on a regular basis. His friends were cool so, yeah, I had a circle.”

Marui laughs. “Is that how you got into Yagyuu’s pants?”

Niou takes another drag, blowing out the smoke like a sigh. “How’d you know that?”

“Some friends eavesdropped on you two breaking up or whatever, and one of them is a bigger gossip whore than Yukimura.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Niou passes off the joint. Marui takes a drag, realizes he could get used to the taste, and hands it back to Niou.

“You’re not mad?” Marui asks.

“Have you told anyone?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t give a shit. Yagyuu might, but that’s not my business anymore. Wasn’t my business in the first place.”

Niou stretches out on the bed, joint hanging from his mouth as he practically crawls towards the pillows. Niou’s body is long and lean, borderline bony, but it’s not unattractive. The pale skin of his stomach where his shirt rides up catches and holds Marui’s attention for longer than it shoulder, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Niou. He grins at Marui, takes a long drag, and blows smoke towards Marui, who waves it away with his hand. 

When he holds out the joint, Marui shakes his head and says, “I think I feel it already.”

Niou holds the joint in front of his face. It’s shorter than he thought it was. He’d be concerned if Marui _wasn’t_ feeling it. He started feeling it a few minutes ago. He takes one last drag, then stamps it out on his nightstand and sets it there. 

“I’m toked,” Niou says with a wicked grin. 

“I didn’t know people actually used that word. It’s in that one song, right?” Marui falls onto his side, his head hitting the pillows and knees knocking into Niou’s.  Niou tilts his head to look at him, cheek pressed into the dry surface of his pillow. Niou’s eyes seem bluer than they were before, like he could get lost in the sea if stared long enough. Marui sings, _“I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker. I get my lovin' on the run.”_

“‘That one song’? I’m ashamed.”

“I knew the lyrics, didn’t I?”

Marui grins and adjusts, moving several inches closer to Niou and forcing their legs to overlap. Without thinking about what will happen next, Niou puts a hand on the back of Marui’s neck and plays with his hair. His palm rests on the nape of Marui’s neck. Everything feels more intense to Niou when he’s high. He loves kissing, and having sex, and just being close to someone. The heat of the bodies and the texture of their skin feels different than usual, though he can’t explain how. Right now, Marui’s skin is burning. 

Marui’s eyes are on Niou’s lips, and his head clouded with smoke and fuzz. Niou’s eyes are blown out to the size of a cat’s and they slip shut as he leans towards Marui with the obvious intent of kissing him, moving so slow that it’s maddening. Marui pushes forward, kissing Niou full on the lips, and he closes his eyes as Niou’s hand slides further up into his hair. Marui sighs into the kiss, moving his lips without thinking, heart pounding like a drum.

Their lips drag together lazy and languid in a way that Marui can only describe as tender, then they press together harder with more desperation. Marui opens his mouth up to Niou. They breathe in and out of each other’s mouths, the air stiflingly hot and heavy. The metal ball in Niou’s tongue is warm against Marui’s lower lip, warmer still against his tongue. Niou’s hips press against his and he smiles against Marui’s lips. 

It lasts a moment. It lasts forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs were "Stand Too Close" by Motion City Soundtrack and "The Joker" by Steve Miller.


	15. Chapter 15

Marui’s head is going to explode. His thoughts are filled with Niou and his body craves to be back in his bed, kissing him again through the THC high that fogged his mind. He smiles just remembering the press of Niou’s tongue piercing, the gentle hand in his hair, and the stick and drag of their lips when they finally parted for the last time. The pleasant ache in his chest makes him want to dance and sing at the top of his lungs. He feels high all over again. He walks through the light flurry of snow with a stupidly large grin.

He blows a large bubble and enters Jackal’s family restaurant through the back door, using the spare key hidden behind the ‘do not enter’ sign to get access to the kitchen. The restaurant is still open and busy with the after-school mini-rush. Marui sees Jackal in an apron, sleeves rolled up, washing the dishes at the sink.

“Hey,” Marui says, walking up behind him.

Jackal jumps. “Holy—how many times have I told you not to do that!” Jackal puts down the dish he’s holding before he drops it. 

“Wanna play some shitty shooter RPG and talk about sex?” Marui asks. He shakes the snow from his hair.

“ _What_?”

The door to the kitchen comes in and the two look to see Jackal’s father. He smiles when he spots Marui and says, “Were you the one who scared my son?”

“Maybe,” Marui answers. His father laughs. “You need any help, Kuwahara-san? I don't mind busing tables or something.”

“We’re good. Go upstairs with our guest, Jackal. You can do the dishes another day. Take the night off. Do you want something to drink, Marui-kun?”

“No, but thanks.” Marui turns to Jackal. “See? That’s how you greet a guest. You don’t scream.”

“I am not above punching you,” Jackal mutters. Louder, he says, “And thanks, Dad. If you need an extra hand, you can change your mind.”

“Will do,” his father says.

Jackal dries his hands and takes off his apron, then leads Marui up the staircase to the apartment above the restaurant. Jackal’s room is at the end of the hall, past the bathroom and his father’s office. Marui sits on the bed while Jackal hooks up a some shitty shooter RPG and messes with his television. After a few minutes, Jackal tosses him a controller and sits next to him on the bed.

“What the hell happened?” Jackal asks. “You were at school this morning, but you disappeared before lunch and weren’t answering anyone’s texts. Urayama thought something was wrong.”

Marui tells Jackal about sneaking out of school with Niou. He skims over some of the details, but includes how they went to Niou’s to get high. He ends with making out with Niou on his bed until Niou’s younger brother came home from school.

Out of the entire story, the only thing Jackal has to say is, “Tongue?”

“Lots of it. His tongue is pierced. I think I may have a kink for piercings.” 

“Shit, I died,” Jackal swears. He regains himself and says, “As long as you don’t ask me to go with you to get your junk pierced, do whatever you like.”

“I don’t want _my_ junk pierced.” 

_Is Niou’s junk pierced?_ Marui thinks. Why is the idea so hot?

They’re halfway through the mission when Jackal says, “You’ve been into for awhile now, haven’t you? That’s what Kato and Aiko said the last time they were both over here talking about girl shit.”

“Yeah. We were—motherfucker, don’t push me off a cliff!”

Jackal laughs like his father.

Marui chews his gum angrily then goes on, “I don’t know if it means anything yet. I want it to, and I know he’s cool with being with a guy because he was with Yagyuu. I don't know if they were dating though."

“I don’t know what means you’re dating or not. Back in junior high, I thought Aiko and I were dating for an entire month but she said we weren’t.”

“Vaguely remember that. Is that why you have two anniversary dates?”

“Yup.”

“You’re both idiots.”

“Don’t call her an idiot.”

“I didn’t mean it. And don’t leave me in an enemy base without a car, dumbass.”

“I know you didn’t. I’ve been dating her for so long that it’s just a reflex now.”

“It’s been five years, hasn’t it?” Marui asks, referring to how long Jackal and Aiko have been dating. It seems like just yesterday that Jackal was coming up with elaborate excuses to go visit Yanagi, Kato, and Aiko’s classroom just to see her. 

“Something like that. The math always confuses me." 

Marui mashes the buttons on his control. He likes hanging out with Jackal. His friendship with Jackal is the completely different from his friendship with Aiko, or Kato, or Urayama and Oyama. He can show up at Jackal’s house at any time, even if they haven’t talked seriously in ages, and they can talk about life and the universe and anything in-between without it feeling forced or weird. Marui likes that.

“Do you want to marry her?” Marui asks.

“Dunno. Maybe.” Jackal clicks his buttons, looking like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Marui blows a bubble. “Are you a pot head now?” Jackal asks. 

“Shut up.”

Jackal pushes him off another cliff in the game and Marui swears.

.

There is no evidence of last night’s snow, as minimal as it was, and Marui wonders if there will be evidence of what happened with Niou. The worst part about kissing someone and not talking to them about it is that you don’t know what it means. Marui finds himself in this situation the next morning when he realizes that he has class and Niou will most likely be there. He knows what he wants the kiss to mean—returned feelings and more kisses to follow—but he doesn’t know what Niou wants. Despite that, he doesn't worry about it because for now, he’s happy, even if that might not be the case later. 

The cold air bites at his face and hands while he walks to school with Aiko, telling her about everything that happened. Aiko smiles and nods in all the right places during his story. When he finishes, he blows a bubble. The gum is cold when he pulls it back into his mouth.

“And I spent all of last night writing,” he adds. “I have ideas for three new songs. I haven’t composed the music to go along with the lyrics, though. I just felt inspired and didn’t want to lose these awesome lines in my head.”

“He’s your muse.” Aiko says it like it’s the best thing in the world. Marui certainly feels like it's the best thing in the world. She goes on, “I hope things work out. You’re always happy when you’re around him. It’s nice. I like seeing my friends be happy.”

Marui rolls his eyes at the sentimental statement.

“After Sanada’s tournament, I think we’re all going out to dinner,” Aiko says. “Hopefully to celebrate. If things go well with Niou, you should invite him. I think Kato would kill you if you didn’t.”

“I’ll think about it. Watching Sanada kick ass at a kendo tournament may be a weird first date, though.”

Aiko laughs. 

They part ways when they get to school. Niou is already sitting at his desk and is staring at the front of the room with a fixed, bored look. When Marui sits at his desk, he sees a small scrap of folded paper. He glances at Niou, who doesn’t look back, then unfolds the paper. They've passed so many notes to each other that Marui recognizes Niou's handwriting. 

_Lunch in student council room._

This time, when Marui looks at Niou, he’s looking back. Marui nods. Niou turns away.

Lunch doesn’t come soon enough. Yesterday they had skipped out during lunch, but today they grab their lunches and head silently downstairs to the student council room. Niou reaches deep into his pocket, pulls out a master key, and unlocks the door. Marui vaguely remembers Niou saying he swiped it from someone and made a copy. They go inside the empty room and close the door behind them.

They sit on the ground with their backs to the wall, thighs pressing together. Ironically, the singer is at a loss of words. Thankfully Niou is more bold and says, “I don’t want to be fuck buddies.”

“Then do you want to be?”

"I want to be with you—monogamously.”

Marui turns his head and sees Niou’s blue eyes staring back at him. He likes Niou’s eyes and how they show more than Niou thinks, if you just know how to look. He likes when Niou laughs and his eyes close tight, his mouth wide and wrinkles around his eyes. He likes how they get blown out and red when he gets high. 

“You want to be my boyfriend?” Marui asks. 

“I don’t care what we call it.”

“I dated a couple of girls and one guy, which didn’t exactly end well. Lucky for me, teenage heartbreak makes for good song lyrics.” 

Marui feels like he could almost laugh because that’s not how you respond when someone says they want to date you but Niou is grinning anyways, completely understanding Marui's intention and still finding the humor in the situation. Marui leans over and kisses him like the idea of dating him isn’t completely horrifying. But even if it scares him to the bone, he knows it’s worth it when Niou kisses back, his tongue gentle and unpiereced against the crease of Marui’s mouth. 

Marui tugs back a few inches. “Be my boyfriend.”

“Well," Niou replies, "if you insist.”

Marui shoves him. Niou smiles and shoves back.

.

Kato gets as far away from school grounds as fast as she can before reaching into her bag for her drug store lighter and half empty pack of cigarettes. She holds one end in-between her teeth and the covers the tip with her hand to block the winter wind. The burn of smoke rolls down her throat and settles in her lungs. She exhales deeply, dropping her arm to her side and rolling the cigarette between her fingers. 

She is so glad winter break starts next week. One week of tests and papers, and then she has a few weeks off to rest and rock out with the band. She has big plans with Krewella, and Yanagi had mentioned something about getting them a small gig, which only adds to her excitement. Then, in just a few more months, she’ll be in college. A few years ago, she never would have believed she’d make to that point. Now she can't wait.

Her phone buzzes in her bag. She stops, stamps out her cigarette, and answers. “Hey, Aiko, what’s up?”

“You’re still coming out to eat after Sanada’s tournament, right?” Aiko asks. “Yukimura wants to get a headcount so he can make a reservation.”

“I thought we were just getting burgers at that shit hole near the school.”

“Apparently something changed. It’s nowhere fancy, he’s just worried that there may be a dinner rush when we want to go and doesn’t want to wait half an hour for a table.”

“Yeah, I’m in. I’ll be there in a few. I’m at the station now.”

The train ride to Rikkaidai is shorter than the ride to the station near her house. She jumps off and heads towards the high school, tapping her hands on her thighs to a beat. She had planned on cutting through the school, but there’s a sign near the front gate saying to go around the school and enter the gym through the side for the Prefectural Kendo Tournament. She follows the arrows and the small crowd of people on campus. 

There aren’t many people in the gym—mostly parents and siblings, a few students who had made the commute to come and support their school team—or _maybe_ , Kato thinks, _I’m starting to get used to performing for large crowds._

She climbs to the top of the bleachers where Sanada’s cheering squad is located. The whole gang is there: Yukimura, Yanagi, Yagyuu, her boys and Aiko. She goes to sit next to Marui at the end of the row but he sticks out his hand and she stops.

“Niou’s sitting there.” 

“Stoner New Kid? Why the hell would he come watch Hat beat on people with wooden swords?” Marui blows a bubble and looks at her with an unimpressed expression, obviously waiting for her to figure it out. It takes her a few seconds to run through the possibilities and come to the right conclusion, then she grins and slaps his arm. “No way! You two hooked up?”

“We got high and made out. We’re going to try dating. He’s coming with us when we go out to celebrate.”

Kato doesn’t mention how they just assume Sanada is going to win. They all do. Well, all of them except for Sanada.

“Is Glasses okay with that?” Kato asks, frowning slightly. She’s not particularly close to Yagyuu, but the guy has seen her dance drunk on the beach during spring break more than once and she thinks that counts for something. 

“Wait. How do you know about him and Yagyuu? The only people who know are me, Ren, Urayama, Oyama, and Jackal.”

Kato shrugs, glancing down the row to see where Yagyuu is sitting and figure out how softly she needs to talk. “Jackal told Aiko and Aiko told me. Should I tell him I know?”

“Niou or Yagyuu?”

“Fuck if I know. Either of them?”

Suddenly Marui looks past her at someone else. She turns and sees Niou climbing the bleachers. She tells Marui they’ll talk later and goes down a row. She sits in front of Aiko and Oyama, leaning back so her head rests on Oyama’s knee and she can look up at Aiko.

“We need to have girl talk with Marui,” she says. “I want to know where all of Stoner New Kid’s piercings are.”

“Kenta has a bunch of piercings and you never asked him if he has any anywhere else,” Urayama says. 

Kato tilts her head in the other direction to Urayama, who is sitting on Oyama’s other side. “Oh yeah?” she asks, grinning wickedly. “You know something I don’t? Because I’ve seen him without a shirt so unless he has them anywhere else…”

Oyama sighs. “My genitals aren’t pierced.”

“Are you sure?” Urayama asks.

“I think I would know.”

“But are you _sure_ , Kenta?”

“ _Shiita_.”

Kato and Urayama laugh.

When they’ve calmed down, Kato glances down the row to where Niou and Marui are sitting. They aren’t conspicuous and are a safe distance apart. As she watches them go through Marui’s ipod with one headphone each, she realizes she doesn’t even know Niou. Marui talks about him a lot and the music he listens to, and apparently they smoke pot together, which should probably bother her more than it does. What she is bothered by is the fact that the last boy Marui dated was a manipulative, abusive dick.  This time, she won’t miss the signals, but she hopes there won’t be any signals because Marui deserves to be fucking happy after all the shit he’s gone through.

She looks out at the gym, wondering when this thing is going to get started, and realizes it already has started. Everyone is lining up and bowing. Kato takes out her phone, zooms in on Sanada, and takes a picture. She posts it to the band’s twitter with the caption:

_go hat #dontfuckup_

She knows he won’t, but messing with him is too much fun.

.

Sanada defeats all of his opponents with ease. They’re not surprised.

They leave the gym immediately after the award ceremony and go to the courtyard where they’re supposed to be meeting up with Sanada after he finishes changing and saying hello to his family. Kato forces Oyama and Urayama to sit on each side of her to keep her warm, wishing she had the foresight to bring a pair of sweatpants to change into. Her uniform skirt isn’t exactly warm. She even wears it lower than usual and her thighs still have goosebumps.

Everyone is talking about something that she isn’t particularly interested in, and Kato figures she’s probably the only one besides Yukimura and Marui to notice that Niou and Yagyuu are several feet away, talking lowly. She can’t make out what they’re saying and decides not to waste her time, deciding to talk to Marui to distract him.

Yagyuu looks over Niou’s shoulder at his friends, who are apparently Niou’s friends as well now. “Marui-kun,” Yagyuu says. It still hurts to look at Niou directly so he settles his gaze on Niou’s beauty mark instead of his eyes. Niou will notice— _Niou-kun notices everything_ , Yagyuu thinks with bittersweet fondness—but Yagyuu does not care. 

“Yeah,” Niou says. “Marui.”

“I assumed, but I wasn’t sure…”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“Why would it be?”

Niou shrugs and buries his hands into his coat pockets. “I haven’t talked to you since I ended things. I know feelings can linger for awhile and I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation. If you want me to go, I can. Marui would understand. Besides, I barely know Sanada. He wouldn't care if I ditched."

“I’ll be fine.”

Niou nods. He lingers a few seconds to see if Yagyuu wants to say anything. When he doesn’t, Niou turns and heads back to where the others are sitting. He sits next to Marui, who is talking animatedly to Kato about something or another, and listens in. Marui leans back against him slightly, not enough to be noticeable, just enough for Niou to feel the slight warmth radiating off him. Niou pretends Yagyuu isn’t looking at them, at him.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Niou pitched a master key to the school from a janitor, made a copy, and returned it before the old man found out. Yagyuu had sighed and told Niou he was sure to be caught, and Niou had grinned and said, “That’s half the fun.” Yagyuu had gone home and thought about that smile with a hand down his pants. 

A week later, when they were high and their lips were swollen from kissing, Niou stepped out.

“Where are you going?” Yagyuu asked.

Niou flashed him that same damn grin that Yagyuu could never figure out and said, “To bust into the vending machine upstairs and get us some munchies.”

When Niou was gone, Yagyuu dug through Niou’s bag, found the copied master key, and made a mold in some clay he got when visiting Yukimura in the art studio. He slipped the key back before Niou returned, arms full of sodas and small bags of mass produced snacks. Niou had kissed him with tongue and it tasted like salt. 

Yagyuu is sure that Niou knows he has a copy of the key, but a small part of Yagyuu still likes to pretend that he was able to outsmart Niou just once. Maybe Niou rubbed off on him. Then again, Niou loved to point out that Yagyuu was the first to suggest their arrangement, or that Yagyuu wanted to try pot with Niou before he offered, and that Yagyuu always got a little harder in his pants when they made out between classes. His rebellious side had always been there, but he never wanted to indulge it until he met Niou.

Yagyuu tells himself to stop thinking about Niou as if they’re still friends, but that is easier said than done. When he uses the key to get into the school on the first day of winter break, Yagyuu thinks about Niou. Even though he has a key to the student council room, he uses the one he got from Niou.

The last they spoke, Niou had said, “I know feelings can linger for awhile.” Yagyuu wishes that Niou had been talking about himself. 

He sighs, adjusts his classes, and heads to the student council room to get his work done. He needs to start working on graduation business and finish filing the service forms that Niou always said could wait (“I can think of a dozen things that are more entertaining, all of which involve my mouth,” Niou would say). Now it’s come back to bite him in the ass and Niou isn’t even there to kiss it better.

Yagyuu works proficiently, sectioning off his thoughts so Niou does not interfere. There’s no one in the building besides him, not even the cleaning staff. The silence is nice, though it would be nicer if Niou were sitting silently by his side, listening to whatever new band he had found at three in the morning over the weekend. Yagyuu never cared for music—he could appreciate—but not in the way Niou loved music. Yagyuu wonders if Niou danced when he was alone in his room, or if he sang in the shower.

_Stop thinking about him_ , Yagyuu thinks. _It’s been over a month. Hope is for fools._

But the chemicals in his brain are not so easily convinced.

He’s halfway through a stack of service forms when the door opens, a very confused Nishimura walking through. The student council vice-president stands dumbstruck in the doorway, staring at Yagyuu.

“There is no school today,” Yagyuu says.

“I know. I just realized I spent all night looking up videos how to pick a lock for no reason. I thought the doors would’ve been locked. Why are you here, Yagyuu?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Nishimura-kun.”

Nishimura finally comes into the room and picks up a textbook on one of the other desks in the room. “Left me calc book. Your turn.”

“I got behind on work during the semester.”

Nishimura frowns. “Yeah? That’s not like you.”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

“What?”

_Who,_ Yagyuu corrects mentally. 

Yagyuu looks up, adjusts his glasses, and fixes Nishimura a blank look nowhere near as impressive as Niou’s. Ah, there he goes again, thinking about _him._

“Do you need help?” Nishimura asks.

“I would not turn it down.”

Nishimura pulls up a chair and sits across from Yagyuu at the large desk, taking half the forms and signing them in the proper places. It’s tedious work that leaves Yagyuu’s hand cramped, but he does not complain. He signed up to be president of the student council, after all.

“Hey,” Nishimura says after awhile. “You’re okay, right? You’ve been kinda off since, uh—“

“Since what?” Yagyuu asks sharply.

Nishimura pointedly does not meet Yagyuu’s eyes. “Since I walked in on you and that punk. I didn’t screw up whatever it is you two, uh, _do_ , did I?”

Yagyuu’s hand stalls. He had no been expecting this. 

“Nishimura-kun—“

“I don’t care if you’re gay,” Nishimura adds quickly. “Like, it’s cool. Whatever. Not my thing. I haven’t told anyone what I saw.”

_What exactly did you see? Me kissing him, then him turning his head to deny me one final kiss?_

“I just think that guy is bad news,” Nishimura says. “I know he got expelled for certain… things… from his last school. He seems like a character. You know what? Forget I said anything.”

Yagyuu hesitates before nodding and going back to work. 

“So what happened?” Nishimura asks.

“Nishimura-kun, please be quiet.”

“Yeah, okay. Shutting up now.”

.

Aiko sleeps in a few hours, hugging her pillow and ignoring her alarm because Jackal convinced her to treat herself the first day of break, but she still manages to get up before noon. She tugs on multiple layers, wraps a scarf around her neck, and heads downtown to a small coffee shop on the corner of a street. She’s never been there and she double checks the store name with the one in the text Yanagi sent her before going in. The inside is inviting and warm, and the entire room smells like vanilla. She spots Yanagi dressed fashionably and standing at the end of a line near the front counter. 

“Yanagi,” she says, smiling as she approaches the boy. “I don’t know if Kato texted you, but she said she couldn’t make it. Krewella wanted her and her new student to play together.”

“She did not, but that is understandable.”

They order hot chocolate and sweets, and sit near the window, watching people as they walk by. Aiko crosses her legs and looks at him from across the table. She smiles. It’s been awhile since just the two of them have been together.

They used to go out together all the time in junior high. Yanagi, Kato, and Aiko were in the same advanced class and would study together. They are intelligent in different ways and never viewed things in the same light, and no matter what they talked about, it was always interesting. Different people get along, according to Yanagi, and Aiko is inclined to believe that, at least for their friendship. Aiko has had some of the most meaningful, deep conversations of her life with Yanagi and Kato. Then Yanagi introduced Aiko to Jackal, and Aiko suggested Kato join his band, and somehow their little trio dissolved. Aiko and Yanagi are still in the same class, but their friendship is different from the friendship they had in junior high. They were different people then. Rather, they’re different people now.

“So,” Yanagi says, sitting down his mug of hot chocolate, “have you heard from any of your prospective universities?”

“I heard from a few. I scheduled some interviews towards the end of break. What about you? Have you heard from Tokyo University? That’s still your first choice, right?”

“Yes, it is my first choice. The entrance exam isn’t until the spring for some reason, but they have contacted me several times. I’ve already corresponded with the director of the department I hope to join. He said he is very interested in the research project I did last year.”

“That’s _awesome_. I know you’ll get in.”

“You should take the exam with Kato and I. I know they don’t have the pre-veterinary program you’re interested in, but it would be interesting to see if you could get in. That’s Kato’s reason for applying.”

Aiko smiles shyly. “I don’t know. I’d never go there. Besides, I don’t even know if I could get in and I’d probably end up depressed if I tried and didn’t make it.”

“You could get in. You always sell yourself short.”

“Really?” That means a lot coming from Yanagi, who Aiko considers to be the smartest person she knows—in more ways than one. He nods and she can’t help but smile, taking the compliment to heart. “Well, thanks. I’ll think about it.”

They talk about their plans for the rest of break and what presents they’re buying their friends. College pops up every other sentence, whether they’re talking about the books they’re reading or their predictions on the season’s weather. Aiko hopes there’s snow; Yanagi says he always slips on ice.

“I think the forecast called for snow later today,” Aiko says. Yanagi frowns slightly. She laughs. “Sorry. Wear boots with good traction?” she suggests.

“I suppose I must.” 

Aiko sips at her hot chocolate, which is not overly sweet and tastes better than anything she’s had all winter. “Where did you find this place?” she asks suddenly. “It’s nowhere near our usual hangouts. It’s really nice.”

“The owner contacted me about having the band play an acoustic session. I came to scope the place out before agreeing.” Yanagi glances around the store, seeming pleased. “I think I will run the idea by the band and see what they think. The pay isn’t extraordinary, but it would give them exposure and we may be able to sell a few CDs on the spot. The owner even said he may be interested in booking the band several times if their first show goes well.”

“I can’t think of any reason why they’d say no.”

“True,” Yanagi concedes. “Do you know if they’ve given any thought to the status of the band after they graduate?”

Aiko frowns, uncharacteristic deep lines forming on her face. “Well, Jackal is working full time at the restaurant instead of going to university. I know Marui plans on studying cinema or music, and Kato is going into psychology. Urayama- and Oyama-kun will still be in high school for another two years… I think they want to keep playing, though. Why are you asking?”

“No reason.”

Aiko picks up her mug, holds it to her lips for a moment, hums, then sips. She knows better than to pry with Yanagi. She’ll never get an answer anyways. 

“Marui and Niou have their first date tonight,” Aiko says casually.

Yanagi smiles. “Do tell.”

.

Marui cannot remember the last time he went on a proper date. His relationship with Ren was odd. They didn’t exactly date, though they did spend time together outside of school that did not involve sex. At the same time, there was no romance there, just two friends who found each other sexually attractive. Before Ren, there were girls when he was confused about his sexuality, hated the idea of being gay, let alone bi. Before that…

Well, that relationship had been odd too.

Marui waits anxiously at the street corner for Niou, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets and headphones blaring music in his ears. He leans against the streetlight, which kicks on when the sun sets. Every time someone passes, he tenses and prepares to wave them down, to try and play it cool in front of Niou. 

On top of that, it’s snowing and his nose is running like a damn kid’s. He sniffles, rubs his frozen nose, and hopes Niou won’t notice. Who is he kidding, Niou’s gonna notice. 

Fuck.

Why is he so nervous for a damn date?

When Niou finally shows up, Marui nearly chokes on his gum. Niou is in some dark trench coat that makes him look dark and mysterious, the collar popped. The dark material makes his skin look paler than usual. Snow sticks to Niou’s hair. The boy smirks at Marui as he approaches.

Oh, yeah, that’s why he’s nervous for a damn date. Because it’s Niou Masaharu.

Marui smiles. “Hey there.”

Niou stops near Marui, shivering. “Let’s get out of this weather. I think my dick has frostbite.”

“I hope not.”

Niou raises an eyebrow at Marui and grins. “Oh yeah?” His voice dips low, perverted. “You got plans for how this date is gonna end?”

“Shut up.” Marui shoves him lightly. Niou laughs. 

Enough of the cold, Marui decides, grabbing Niou’s gloved hand and leading him towards their destination. Niou does not fight his hand, merely hums and squeezes back gently, and follows Marui down the street in the snow. 

For the rest of the night, Marui does not feel nervous. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Marui always thought that people like Niou only existed in movies and cheesy young adult novels, but he is pleasantly surprised to find that his manic pixie dream boy is real with a devious smile, a skilled tongue, and hot, curious hands. Niou is like an ice-cream cone on a hot day, like a rainbow after a thunder storm, like a firefly in the middle of summer. Niou makes him want to write flowery metaphorical love songs with lyrics that make no sense at all. 

Marui spends his days rehearsing for their gig at the coffee shop, perfecting new songs, waiting tables at the Kuwahawa’s family restaurant, and texting a white-haired punk. At night, he roams the streets with Niou for music shops and parks to explore, jumping off swings and hiding out in a red plastic slide. On Monday, Marui climbs halfway up a large oak in the park and is too afraid to come down until Niou promises to catch him. Wednesday, they hear “About A Girl” on the radio and Marui freaks out in the middle of the music shop. Thursday night, they get high and make out for hours.

Niou is worth writing songs about.

Marui can practically feel himself falling head over heels with every second he spends with Niou and it doesn’t go unnoticed by his bandmates. He’s known all of them for years and has spent more time with them than anyone else in the world. He recognizes when they’re annoyed or angry and try to hide it. Kato clenches her jaw and Urayama won’t meet his eyes. Oyama is the hardest to read, but he tends to eat less candy. Jackal changes topics when something bothers him. Marui sees all their tells but doesn’t say anything because they have to practice and they can’t do that if they’re fighting.

Marui presses close to the mic as he sings new lyrics, his voice fighting for the lead against Oyama’s electric guitar, Kato’s unfamiliar drumbeat, and Jackal’s foreign bass line. It’s coming together, but it’s not perfect yet.

_“I’m just a moment, so don’t let me pass you by.  
We could be a story in the morning, but we’ll be a legend tonight.”_

The instruments pick up and Oyama sings alongside Marui.

_“I ’m just a moment, so don’t let me pass you by,_   
_And they can speak our names in a dead language_   
_‘Cause you and I, we’re alive,_   
_But just for a moment.”_

The instruments drop as they exit the chorus and something isn’t right—just one part is off but it sounds so wrong, that’s the wrong melody. The band all hears it and the songs screeches as it fades off. Marui turns around and looks at his bandmates, trying to find who screwed up.

“Sorry,” Urayama says, looking like he wants to disappear into his shell from behind his keyboard. “You’ve written so many new songs and I got confused.”

“It’s okay,” Marui assures. Sweat soaked bangs cling to his forehead. He can taste his own sweat on his lips. “We’ll run through it again.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Kato says firmly. She stares down Marui over her drum set. _If looks could kill_ , Marui thinks. “I can barely keep it straight either, Marui. The songs kick ass, but this is the third one this month.”

“There’s also the one he hasn’t finished writing,” Oyama points out. 

Kato points her sticks at Oyama and nods in agreement. “I know we’re on break and all, but god damn, slow down it, dude.”

“It’s because he has a muse,” Jackal says. He probably doesn’t mean it to come out harsh or cruel, but it sounds that way to Marui, who doesn’t know why he takes offense. Jackal adds, “He’s never had one before.”

“So what?” Marui snaps.

“You’re writing a bunch of love songs,” Kato says. “Outlines, Stand Too Close—I don’t even know what the others are named.”

“I haven’t picked names out yet.”

“Exactly! You’re putting out songs before we can finish them. I love you and your music, but this is fucking ridiculous.”

The silence only makes the air more tense. Kato doesn’t back down, she never does, and Marui doesn’t know how to reply because it’s true. Most of the new songs are love songs in one way or another. There’s a few others that aren’t, ones they’ve been trying to piece together since their album came out, but Marui only wants to play the newest songs—the love songs. The core of his inspiration is Niou so of course he’s been writing about and sing about love.

“Maybe we should all take a break,” Urayama says nervously. “We’ve been working since this morning and I think everyone’s a bit tired.”

“Seconded,” Jackal says.

Kato and Marui don’t break eye contact until Urayama puts a hand on the drummer’s shoulder, steering her away. Urayama and Oyama sit in large bean bags and share candy, offering some to Kato to ease her mood. She takes it, but it doesn’t look like it helps. She looks like she needs a smoke or she's going to punch a hole into the wall. Urayama urges her to sit in his lap and she does with a bitter face that disappears when he tickles her. 

Marui sits on the sofa with Jackal, who stretches out his legs to knock Marui’s knees. Marui looks at his best friend and sighs.

“They’re all love songs, aren’t they?” Marui asks.

“Kinda,” Jackal replies. Marui ruffles his hair and wishes he had gum. He wishes Niou was here. Jackal goes on, “I get it. You know how I was when I finally got with Aiko.”

“You were damn annoying. The way you talked about her, I thought you were going to puke flowers.”

“Exactly.”

Marui sighs again. He reaches into his pocket for his silenced phone, seeing a message from Niou asking if he wants to go do something after band practice. Marui replies _yes_ then pockets the phone. 

“I can’t help it. I go to write and all that comes out are flowery metaphors and stupid lines about how I’m falling faster than Icarus. Hey, that’d be—“

“No,” Jackal cuts in firmly, stopping Marui from running up to his bedroom for his book of unfinished song lyrics. “It’s affecting the band. We’re all happy for you, but we’re getting a little sick of the love songs. Don’t you have anything else we could try? Because if you don’t, I think we’re done for today.”

“Not anything that has written music,” Marui says, rubbing the back of his head as he thinks. “I’ve got lyrics, but nothing more than that.”

“We could practice for our coffee shop gig.”

“Urayama and Oyama came over before you and Kato to do that. We ran through all our acoustic sets.”

“Then let’s play one of the songs you wrote in junior high,” Oyama says.

Marui and Jackal look at the trio sitting by the bean bags; they’re passing a bag of candy back and forth. Kato is still sitting on Urayama’s lap despite the previous tickle attack, his arms wrapped around her middle and his chin on her shoulder. Whether that’s supposed to calm her or restrain her, Marui isn’t sure. She meets Marui’s eyes.

“What song?” Marui asks. 

“Where I Belong?” Kato suggests. 

It’s another one of the songs Marui wrote back in junior high when he was still with his ex-boyfriend, still under his thumb and believing all the shit he said. Just remembering that year makes his stomach knot and ache like he’s being stabbed. The song didn't make the cut for their CDs and Kato never said it, but Marui thinks she connected with that song almost as much as she did with One More Weekend. All of the songs mean something to each of them. 

Oyama gets out of his seat to get his guitar, not waiting for Marui to agree, and the others follow. Urayama slides back into place behind his keyboard, Kato at her drums, and Jackal with his bass. Marui grabs the mic and tries to recall some of the finer points of the song, like when he needs to raise his voice and cut off notes.

How long has it been since they played this?

He sings and breaks into the first verse. It comes back naturally. 

.

After practice, Kato stops by Aiko’s place down the street, letting herself in with the key hidden in the fake rock by the mail box, and finds her best friend cooking something that smells damn amazing. She grins wickedly, sneaks up behind her, and wraps her arms around Aiko’s waist. Aiko doesn’t jump in surprise like Kato had hoped.

“Hey, Kato,” Aiko says, amused as she sets the bowl she was mixing down.

“Did you hear me coming?” Kato asks in overly dramatic disappoint. She breaks away from her friend, hoping up to sit on the counter. 

“You have elephant feet worse than Jackal’s. Sorry.” Aiko smiles at her. 

“Whatever. Whatcha making?”

“A cake. I was mixing the icing, but I’m done now. How’d practice go?”

Kato rolls her eyes. “Marui’s got such a hard on for his new boyfriend that it’s ridiculous. If I have to play one more love song, I think I’m going to vomit confetti hearts. Bleh.” Kato fake gags.

Aiko checks the timer on the oven, sees she has time before she needs to pull out the cakes, and leans against the counter, focusing her attention on Kato. “From what I’ve heard of them, they’re good songs.”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

They’re damn good, but she won’t tell anyone that in case it gets back to Marui. That little shit does not need a bigger ego or his head may explode. 

She like the songs, really. She just can’t connect to the love songs the way she does songs about teenage rebellion and fucked up kids. She’s never been in love, but she has rebelled and is still a bit fucked up—and she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that. She likes the songs and she’ll play them as long as Marui keeps coming up with awesome drum beats, but she gets a different feeling from them. They don’t resonate in her soul.

Kato sighs, kicking her legs back and forth, fingers twitching idly without drum sticks to twirl. She asks, “You up to watching shitty movies and stuffing our faces with junk food? We can paint our nails and complain about school.”

“Of course.” Aiko meets Kato’s eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just in one of those modes where I want to talk about feelings. I don’t even know about what. You know that feeling?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you’re, like, my best friend so… I don’t know. Emotions and shit. That’s your speciality, not mine.”

“You’re my best friend too.” 

Kato grins. “I better be.” 

Aiko asks, “Do you want to spend the night?”

“I’ll ask my mom if I can.”

The oven beeps and Aiko grabs her oven mitts to check the cakes. She deems them ready and begins to pull out the thin circular cakes, each a single layer to the cake. 

“When these cool a bit, I need to add icing,” Aiko says. “Do you want to help?”

“Can I draw a dick on it?”

Aiko smiles, not even surprised at Kato’s request. She says, “Between the layers. The cake’s for a friend of my mom’s and I don’t think she would appreciate a penis cake.”

“Fuck yeah. You’re the best.”

.

Jackal gets a text from his father saying he could take the night off, leaving Jackal with nothing to do after practice. He knows Aiko and Kato are hanging out, doing girl stuff and shit, and he didn’t want to cut in on their time together. He would stay and hang out with Marui, but Niou is coming over and Jackal doesn’t want to watch them make out. There's always Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi, but Jackal has no idea what they're doing and if he'd be welcome to join in. So when practice ends, Jackal leaves with Urayama and Oyama, who are meeting Kirihara for burgers at the usual diner.

Surprisingly, Kirihara is already there when the trio arrives. They join their friend at a booth in the back, ordering their usuals when a cute waitress comes over to their table. She flirts with Kirihara, who would usually be asking for her number by the time the food arrived, but the skater says nothing, eyes tacked to his phone instead of her cleavage. 

“I know I’m always telling you to be respectful, but this is just weird, Akaya,” Jackal mentions. 

“What’s weird?” Kirihara asks. 

“That girl was flirting with you,” Urayama says, “and you didn’t even notice!”

Even Oyama nods in agreement. “You’ve been texting someone since we got here. You’ve hardly said anything.”

Kirihara’s phone buzzes against the table and he reaches to grab it, then processes their words. He stops mid-reach, grabbing his drink several inches away to make it look like he wasn’t going for his phone. No one buys it. 

Urayama smiles happily. “Do you already have a girlfriend? Is that who you’re texting? When I can I met her? Oh my god, _do I know her_?” He sounds like a stereotypical teenage girl from a shitty movie. 

Kirihara laughs. “I wish it were a girl, but it's just Hiyoshi."

Jackal and Oyama share a look then turn their gazes back to Kirihara, who has picked up his phone and is responding to Hiyoshi’s message. 

.

The sun has set by the time Niou shows up at Marui's house. He texts Marui when he’s five minutes away so when Marui hears the doorbell ring, he knows it’s Niou. Marui flies down the stairs, rushing past his mom, saying he'll get the door, which he swings open with a stupid grin. Niou quirks an eyebrow at him, amused. His pale cheeks are burned rose red from the harsh winter wind. His piercings shine under the flickering porch light. 

_Shit. He looks hot with his collar popped._

Niou’s blue eyes flick to Marui’s side, over his shoulder to the stairs where Marui’s mother is standing. “Hello, Marui-san.”

Marui turns around to stare at his mom for a few seconds then lets Niou inside. Marui’s mom has never met Niou. He wonders what she sees. A skinny punk with long white hair and metal in his eyebrow who’s come to taint her son? He doubts it. His mom never had a problem with what people look like; she loves Kato, who looks like a pop punk magazine personified. 

“Mom, this is my friend Niou,” Marui says. “He transferred here during the beginning of the semester.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Niou-kun.”

“You too,” Niou says.

“We’re just gonna head upstairs and hang out,” Marui says quickly. “Or maybe we’ll go downstairs? I don’t know. Somewhere.” He moves his jaw, wishing he had gum. So awkward.

But what else could he say?

_By the way, he’s my boyfriend. Think we could make popcorn after we make out?_

No way. 

“We’ll be upstairs,” Marui says. He begins heading up the stairs and hears Niou follow. When they get to his room, Marui closes the door, locks it, and sits on his bed. Niou leaves his coat on the desk chair and sits on bed on the opposite end. He looks hot without the coat, too.

“Are you out to anyone besides your friends?” Niou asks, picking idly at his jeans, like that isn’t a heavy question to ask someone you’ve been dating for less than a month. 

“Not really. I haven’t said anything to my parents, but I think they may know. If they asked, I would tell them. They’re respectful and accepting and all that shit. I just… I don’t want to risk it if I don’t have to. You never know with people.” 

He learned that the hard way a few years ago. He doesn’t say that, though.

Marui asks, “What about you? Do your parents know?” 

“My dad and siblings know.”

“What about your mom?”

Niou gets this bitter smile that makes Marui frown. It only lasts for a second. “My mom isn’t around anymore,” Niou says.

Marui nods, frowning, but doesn’t press. Aiko’s parents are split and she hates talking about her dad—there’s a reason she goes by her given name, after all. 

Marui says, “That sucks, maybe? Does that suck? I don’t know what to say.”

Niou tilts his head subtly, like he never thought about it like that. He speaks softly. “Yeah. It sucks.” His mask is back. Unreadable, distanced. Marui notices but doesn’t say anything. 

Marui stretches out on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Niou sits by the foot of the bed, legs stretched out and tangling with Marui’s in the middle. Niou’s legs are thinner and longer. 

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you,” Marui says. “Here I am, an open book—“

“You’re so full of shit,” Niou cuts in, grinning.

“What? Is there something you don’t know about me that you want to know? Maybe how I found out I’m a musical genius, or maybe my first encounter with gum? It was a cold December day when Jackal shoved his apple gum into my hair—“

Niou tosses a pillow at him. Marui catches it and laughs. 

“Really, though,” Marui says. “Anything you wanna know?”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“I had a fuck buddy who’s one of my best friends. I don’t see her much anymore and I miss her. I had an ex-boyfriend who messed with me pretty bad. She helped.” Marui shrugs. “I hate artificial grape flavor. I’ve worn makeup, kind of liked it, but not enough to do it every day. I own underwear with pink elephants on them.” 

Niou grins. “Pink elephants?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No. I bet they’re _adorable_ ,” Niou says with a wicked smirk.

“Damn right they’re adorable.” Marui smiles. He waits a second before asking, “Anything you want to tell me?”

For a brief second, Niou looks like he wants to say something. Instead he says, “No,” with that blank face. And maybe it isn’t as easy as Marui thought, but it still feels good and there’s no need to hurry.

Trust doesn’t come overnight.

“What do you want to do?” Marui asks, knocking his feet against Niou’s legs. “We can hang in the band room and listen to some music—the acoustics are fucking awesome down there. We could play some video games or I could show you my pink elephant underwear…” Marui grins, obviously joking. 

“I’d offer to show you mine, but I’m not wearing any.”

Niou’s legs are spread just slightly and Marui stares. Niou has pierced hips, so who’s to say he doesn’t have a pierced—

“Please tell me you know I’m joking,” Niou says. “Oh my god. You thought I was serious. I know you did. You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you’re dating a loser,” Marui replies lamely. His mind is still in the gutter because damn those pants are tight and is he really joking? _Really?_

“I never said it was a bad thing," Niou says with a teasing grin that probably isn’t meant to be seductive but is. Who is Marui kidding? It’s meant to be seductive. Niou’s actions are not random, they are calculated down to every sexy smile. 

Marui swallows thickly. “But are you…?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Niou swings his long, _long_ legs off the bed and walks to the door. His pants are so skinny they seem to mold to his bones. Marui makes a noise that is half distressed, half a moan. Niou grins at him over his shoulder, cocky, sexy. 

“Music?” Niou prompts.

Marui gets out of bed, adjusting himself through his jeans when Niou turns around. He grabs his iPod and a small stack of CDs and follows Niou down the stairs to the band room. 

The band room smells like the grade soda Urayama spilled halfway through practice and is covered in stray gummy worms from the bag of candy Oyama chucked across the room to Marui, forgetting it was open. Marui hadn’t seen Kato laugh harder all morning—it was good to see the band was still the band despite his relationship. Though the small smile Niou gets when Marui explains why he just stepped on a gummy worm is pretty good too.

Marui puts on a mix CD that he’s been meaning to share with Niou for awhile then jumps onto the sofa. He lies on his back, the springs digging into his back, and listens to the guitar build up.

“Listen to the opening chord, it’s fucking awesome,” Marui says. “It sounds even better with headphones on because it’s the bass in one ear and the guitar in the other. It’s so cool.”

Niou sits on the ground with his back to the sofa. He tilts his head back near Marui’s waist. Niou is quiet when he listens to music. He enjoys it, but he doesn’t know the technical words like Marui does. Niou still knows his shit, though, and Marui loves that about him.

Marui closes his eyes, singing along softly, heading bobbing with the beat. When the song ends, he opens his eyes to see Niou’s reaction, but only sees Niou’s mass of white hair, his head tilted back against the sofa. Marui reaches out and touches his hair. It’s softer than it looks. Niou glances at him.

“Do you mind if I play with your hair?” Marui asks.

“No.”

Marui closes his eyes, losing himself in the music, and finds comfort in their relative silence. Marui absently plays with Niou’s hair, twirling it, threading his fingers in it. Niou makes a small noise almost like a sigh that makes Marui’s heart skip a beat. Marui can see the faint beginnings of dark roots. His fingers brush metal and plays with Niou’s earrings before returning to his hair. 

“I know this song,” Niou says. “Their new stuff is better.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to break up. You obviously have no taste in music.”

“You tell me their first album was good and I will break up with you, and I am not joking.” Marui laughs. “I’m not joking,” Niou repeats. Marui doesn’t have to look to recognize the smile. He can hear it in Niou’s voice. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song was "Outlines" by All Time Low. The song mentioned "Where I Belong" is by Motion City Soundtrack.


	18. Chapter 18

Yukimura’s puts on his favorite playlist, locks his bedroom door, and pulls out a six pack of expensive beer from under his bed. He sits with Yanagi and Sanada on the floor, smiling pleasantly, like they aren’t drinking illegally on a Tuesday afternoon instead of studying for their upcoming exams or booking gigs for the band they’re in charge of. Yukimura’s pleasant smile makes him seem like he is a pristine, well-behaved student when Sanada has seen him do more shots than he is years old. Not at once, of course. Even drunk-Yukimura has _some_ restraint and common sense.

Sanada can’t talk, though, because he opens the beer Yukimura hands him and takes a short sip without a second thought. Kato and Yukimura have rubbed off on him too much over the years. Yukimura more so, but that girl sure has changed him and his friends never let him forget it.

With one hand on his beer, Yukimura reaches behind him and grabs a colorful box that has been worn down over the years. Yukimura invited them over to play games and Sanada had assumed he meant video games, not board games. 

“Monopoly,” Sanada says, face straight.

“ _Drunk_ Monopoly,” Yukimura corrects. 

“It takes more than one beer for you to be drunk, Seiichi,” Sanada says and sighs. His parents would kill him if they saw him like this. Kato would take a picture. Yukimura would show her the ones he has.

“Slightly Buzzed Monopoly?” Yanagi suggests.

Yukimura hums. “I like that. First one who bankrupts buys pizza.”

Yukimura sets up the board while Yanagi reads the instructions and Sanada drinks his beer, his back to Yukimura’s bed. He recognizes the overplayed pop song from Yukimura’s playlist but doesn’t know the words. He thinks Zero to Hero did a cover of it at some party awhile ago; Yanagi probably has a recoding of it lying around somewhere so he can post it to twitter. 

Sanada is snapped out of his thoughts when Yukimura says, “I get to be the car.”

“I’ll be the dog,” Yanagi says. “Genichirou?”

Sanada takes a long sip, sets his bottle down, and picks a metal piece at random. “The boot.”

Yukimura smiles. “Fitting.”

“How is that fitting?” Sanada asks.

“I see it too, Seiichi,” Yanagi says.

Sanada sighs and puts his apparently-fitting piece in place. “Is Akaya coming?” he asks. 

“He said he had plans,” Yukimura says as Yanagi begins to deal out the starting money. “I told him to stop by afterwards if he wanted to.”

.

Yukimura gets Parkway and Boardwalk on the first lap of the board, and every space between jail and free parking within the next four laps. He’s even good at Monopoly, Sanada thinks, which is just downright unfair because who gets to be good at so many things? 

Six empty bottles of beer later, Yukimura types something on his phone then turns it to Yanagi. “Just posted this on the band’s twitter since it’s been inactive for a few days,” Yukimura says. Yanagi nods and Yukimura turns his phone to Sanada, who reads the tweet.

_board game tuesday #slightlybuzzedmonopoly #nottheband_

“Am I the only one who doesn’t understand the point of twitter?” Sanada asks.

“Yes,” Yukimura says, rolling the dice. Yanagi moves his piece for him since it’s on the other side of the board. “Because you’re an old man, Genichirou."

“You landed on my space,” Sanada says. 

“What?” Yukimura looks down at the board. “When did you get hotels?”

“Sorry, Seiichi, but it looks like you’ll need to sell something,” Yanagi says.

Yukimura frowns. “I don’t think I like this game anymore.”

.

Yukimura pulls out another six pack and Slightly Buzzed Monopoly becomes Drunk Monopoly. Yukimura holds his liquor well; he may be more vocal and become more shameless, but he does not show off skateboard tricks like Kirihara. Yanagi does not appear drunk at all, even when he is, though he begins to use larger words. Sanada has been drunk a handful of times and does not like to talk about any of them. He stops drinking when he begins to boarder buzzed and drunk. 

“I’m bankrupt,” Sanada says. He leans back against Yukimura’s bed and watches as Yanagi reads the game manual to figure out what to do. “Do I really have to buy pizza?”

“Extra cheese and olives,” Yukimura says, smiling.

“Pineapple and breadsticks," Yanagi says. 

“Cheesy breadsticks,” Yukimura says. Yanagi nods in agreement.

Sanada grabs Yukimura’s laptop off his bed to order online. There goes his allowance. 

Casually, Yukimura says, “Do you like Kato, Genichirou?”

“That was arbitrary,” Yanagi says.

“I wanted to wait until he couldn’t beat me at Monopoly to ask. Genichirou, you become vicious at board games when you’re pushed into an emotional corner.”

Sanada can feel himself blushing. Damn it. Beer makes him to easy to read. 

“We’re not talking about this again,” Sanada says. “I’ve already told you that she—“

“Is hard to deal with, wears too much makeup, and plays the most obnoxiously loud instrument you have ever heard,” Yukimura says, eyes unwavering. Sanada hates when Yukimura looks at him like that, like Yukimura will get his answer even if it kills him. “Yes, we know. But do you _like_ her?”

“You said you wanted pineapple, Renji?” Sanada asks.

“Yes, but do not change the subject or I will interpret your unwillingness to discuss this as a yes. I’m as intrigued as Seiichi.”

Sanada remains silent. They already know the damn answer. He will not give them the satisfaction—it’s none of their business, anyways. 

.

Kirihara gets Yukimura’s text telling him that is he is welcome to come over, but Kirihara replies that he already has plans. And he’s totally not lying to get out of it this time! 

As the semester ended and winter break approached, Kirihara, Hiyoshi, and Zaizen were all too busy to get together and celebrate Hiyoshi’s birthday. But now that winter break is here and they are free to ignore his responsibility without any immediate consequences, they all agreed to get together and get into some trouble. They didn’t use those words or plan to get into trouble, but it was inevitable with all of them together.

Kirihara arrives at the designated meet up, a crappy burger joint that leaves your fingers dripping in grease, and finds Hiyoshi and Zaizen sitting at a booth in the back. Zaizen sees him come in but Hiyoshi does not, his back to the door. 

Kirihara sneaks up and messes up Hiyoshi’s stupid mushroom hair. “Happy birthday!” 

Hiyoshi flushes red and swats Kirihara’s hands away. “Do you have to act like a five year old?”

“Yes.” Kirihara slips into the booth next to Hiyoshi and grabs his drink to take a sip. Hiyoshi only sighs, like he expects his behavior of Kirihara by now.

Things are finally normal between the two of them now. Well, Kirihara still has those strange dreams and urges, but as far as Hiyoshi knows, his sexuality does not matter at all and they can go back to being friends. It’s as simple as that.

Then why the fuck can’t Kirihara believe that’s how things really are?

“I’m treating,” Zaizen says, “so get whatever you—“

“Onion rings,” Kirihara cuts in. “Ohh, and those mammoth milkshakes. I want chocolate.”

“Strawberry for me,” Hiyoshi says as he skims the menu.

Zaizen reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “I finally get some money from my fakes and it’s going to your bottomless stomachs.”

“Then don’t offer to treat us to dinner,” Kirihara says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zaizen sighs. “Speaking of IDs… I know we planned to go to that vintage game store near here, but I need to do some graffiti and could use some help looking out for cops. We shop after. Cops are more suspicious at night."

“I thought we were getting together to celebrate my birthday,” Hiyoshi says, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. "You didn't say anything about having to graffiti." 

“I figured we’d hit two birds with one stone. Do you guys really care?”

Hiyoshi and Kirihara share a look. Kirihara can’t seem to calm his stomach.

_He has pretty eyes_ , Kirihara thinks. _Fuck. Stop being gay, Akaya._

“I don’t mind,” Hiyoshi says, turning away, breaking eye contact.

Flustered, Kirihara looks at Zaizen. “Yeah. Whatever, dude.”

.

Zaizen takes them from park to park and tells them to look out. Hiyoshi and Kirihara linger about twenty feet away in the cold while Zaizen hunches under bridges, behind brick walls, and curves his paint around tree trunks. Kirihara pretends he is a dragon once he realizes his breath is visible and Hiyoshi smiles but Kirihara doesn’t see.

When they get to a new bridge, Zaizen says, “Last one, then we can go hang out.”

“What are you painting anyways?” Kirihara asks before joining Hiyoshi on top of a hill some twenty five feet away. “ID stuff?”

Zaizen shakes and uncaps a can of blue spray paint and goes to work. “Yeah. I need pocket change. Go look out with Hiyoshi.”

Kirihara nods. He jogs up the hill and stands next to Hiyoshi, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. 

Hiyoshi has been relatively silent this entire time, responding only when Kiriahra starts up a conversation. Kirihara looks at him from time to time, but it's too dark to tell where Hiyoshi is looking. Kirihara wishes he'd look his direction, then Kirihara would have a reason for thinking stupid things, like wanting to lean forward and kiss him or inching closer to get warm.

“Cool birthday, huh?” Kirihara asks with what must be a shit-eating grin because Hiyoshi shoves him lightly. 

There’s a path at the bottom of the hill that’s well-light with crappy street lights. Hiyoshi points someways down the path at a man who is pointing at them. The man begins to approach.

“Zaizen!” Kirihara calls out. “We got trouble.”

“Cop?”

“Can’t tell.”

Immediately afterwards, someone shouts, “Hey, what are you kids doing up there?” 

“Cop or overly protective soccer dad.”

“Cop,” Hiyoshi says. “There’s another—a partner.”

“Zaizen, pack it up!” Kirihara calls loudly. 

Zaizen tosses his cans into his bag and sprints over to Kirihara and Hiyoshi. He gauges the distance between them and the cops, decides it’s not good, and turns to book it out of there. Kirihara turns as well, but Hiyoshi remains rooted in place. 

The two cops are both jogging over to them.

“Hiyoshi, we gotta go,” Kirihara says, but Hiyoshi does not move. 

“Guys!” Zaizen hisses. “ _Run!_ ”

“I’m trying,” Kirihara says angrily, tugging violently on Hiyoshi’s sweatshirt sleeve, but Hiyoshi seems frozen. Kirihara turns to Zaizen. “Go. We’ll follow.”

“I don’t like it, but I trust you.”

Zaizen takes off.

“Don’t slow me down,” Kirihara says. Then Kirihara grabs Hiyoshi’s hand, sweaty palms pressed together, and breaks into a run. Warmth explodes in his limbs, heart pounding with adrenaline and teenage recklessness. Hiyoshi lifts his feet and follows, his hand squeezing Kirihara’s tight with his surprisingly warm fingers. 

The winter air bites Kirihara's face until he can not longer feel his face and his nose is cold as icy iron; Hiyoshi’s hand only feels hotter in his. The wind silences the shouts of the cops and the descending stairs in front of them mean nothing. They jump down, clearing the stairs in one jump, Kirihara stumbling and laughing, Hiyoshi right behind him. The cops' lights shine on their backs and casts their infinitely long shadows on the ground in front of them, the tips of their shadowed heads nearly touching Zaizen’s feet.

_So this is what it’s like to feel alive_ , Kirihara thinks.

Laughing, Kirihara glances over his shoulder at the cops and Hiyoshi, who has this wild look in his eyes. He could let go of Hiyoshi’s hand, let them run side by side, but he doesn’t want to.

They run until they lose track of where they are—and where Zaizen is. Shit. Okay. Maybe Kirihara should have paid more attention to where he was going than what was behind them. He calls out for Zaizen but gets no response. Did he hang a left back there? Or maybe he turned around and went away wide to confuse them.

Kirihara and Hiyoshi slow to a stop in an alley between a crappy pizza joint and a rundown arcade. They hide behind a dumpster even though there isn’t a cop in sight. Kirihara presses his back to the grody brick wall, thankful for the chance to catch his breath, even if it’s in an alley that smells like week old pizza and something that is slowly dying. The one time he doesn’t have his skateboard is the one time he needed it. He isn’t sure if it’s irony or what, but it makes him smile.

Hiyoshi leans against the wall next to Kirihara, eyes wide. “We just ran from the cops,” he says, the situation finally hitting him. 

“Yeah,” Kirihara says, smiling broadly, heart pounding so damn hard in his chest that it hurts but he wouldn’t want it any other way. "No thanks to you. You froze like some virgin in bed."

“Shut up. I don't usually get yelled at by cops, you know." Hiyoshi's breath his shaky and comes out of his mouth in puffs. Like an afterthought, he says, "You can let go of my hand.”

“Yeah.”

But Kirihara doesn't let go. Hiyoshi is right next to him and all he wants in the world is to kiss him, to see if Hiyoshi would kiss him back. It’s plagued him in his dreams and less attentive moments, and now it’s right there in front of him, and he’s too chicken to do it. 

“I wonder if Zaizen got away,” Hiyoshi says, not pressing the hand-holding issue, which isn’t an issue as far as Kirihara is concerned.

“I’m sure he did. He was in front of us."

They fall into a momentary silence, the only noise between them their harsh breathing and the over played pop music from cars driving by. Eventually, Hiyoshi says, “I should get home.”

“Yeah. I should too.” Kirihara tilts his head to look at Hiyoshi and sees Hiyoshi staring back. Kirihara grins. “Happy birthday, dude.”

Hiyoshi finally releases Kirihara’s hand, kicking away from the wall but looking at his friend expectedly. “Let’s figure out where the nearest train station is and if Zaizen got arrested or not. I don’t want to have to post bail for someone on my birthday.”

Kirihara laughs and he knows he will never forget this moment for the rest of his life, even if he was a coward.

.

While they’re waiting for a train to take them back home, Zaizen calls. He says he scaled a tree and got pissed on by a squirrel or something and is going home. He thanks them and says he’ll split the profits with them, two percent each, which Kirihara knows is significant despite seeming small because Zaizen charges a pretty penny for his fake IDs. There's no way normal teenagers could buy them with their allowance. 

When Kirihara gets off the phone, Hiyoshi grumbles, “I cannot believe this is how I celebrate turning seventeen.”

“Welcome to the dancing queen club,” Kirihara jokes. 

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes. “So what are you going to do tonight when you get back?"

Kirihara puts his hands behind his head and thinks of a serious answer.  “I think I’ll stop by Yukimura’s and hang out. Beats going home and playing video games by myself. Why?”

“No reason. I was just wondering if you wanted to do something together.” 

“Huh?”

Hiyoshi's train pulls into the station. Hiyoshi shakes his head. “Never mind. See you around, Kirihara.”

Hiyoshi boards the train and Kirihara watches, confused. 

What was that about? Oh, well.  


	19. Chapter 19

The last week before school starts back up, Yukimura invites everyone over to his for an impromptu get together. His parents are once again out of town and his sister is spending the night at a friend’s, and Yukimura never passes up a chance to have friends over, even if he already had two large house parties over break. This time, the group he invites is smaller, and not all of them can make it anyways. Aiko is meeting with some girl friends from school and Kato is hanging out with Krewella, leaving just the boys.  It's rare for just the guys to get together. It usually leads to trouble.

Sanada, Yanagi, and Yagyuu are already there when Marui and Jackal show up together. They park Jackal’s van behind Yukimura’s car then head inside.

“There’s pizza in the kitchen,” Yukimura said. “Sodas are in the fridge. Everyone is playing Super Smash Brothers in the living room right now.”

Urayama, Oyama, and Kirihara show up together twenty minutes later. Fifteen minutes after that, Niou arrives by himself.

Even though everyone had arrived, they continue to play video games, switching who played every round and finished the pizza in record time.

Yukimura takes a picture of the four band members for twitter; Marui has this stupid smile and Urayama is giving Jackal bunny ears. 

“Perfect,” Yukimura says. “Thank you.”

“Has twitter helped at all?” Jackal asks.

“Renji says your sales have more than doubled,” Yukimura says. “We can get in touch with a larger fan base. Before, we could only talk to people we knew.”

Marui whistles. “Damn.”

“Are you guys going to keep doing the band once you start college?” Kirihara asks.

“Yeah,” Marui says. “We won’t be able to practice as much ‘cause Kato and I will be living on campus, but we still want to do it.”

“What if you got a record deal?” Kirihara asks.

“We’re still in high school,” Oyama says. “We need to wait until we graduate.”

“Yeah, but after?” Kirihara asks.

The band members look at each other, shrugging. They had never really talked about it. It’s not like anyone would offer them a deal for two years in the future, it didn’t work like that.    


“Maybe?” Urayama says. “I don’t know. We’d wait and see. I don't really want to think about what I'm doing in two years—too stressful."

“What he said,” Jackal says.

Marui moves away from the band, sitting between Niou and Sanada on the sofa. “You suck at video games,” Marui says.

“I know,” Niou replies, handing Marui his control.

.

They play every video game Yukimura has. Before they know it, it’s nearly midnight.

”I’m booored,” Kirihara says, dangling off the sofa. “Someone think of something to do.”

“I have alcohol,” Yukimura says.

“We have a show on Sunday night,” Marui says. “No drinking unless we can all drink.”

“Seiichi has quite a few movies,” Yanagi says.

“Pass,” Kirihara says.

“Never have I ever,” Urayama says. 

“Yes,” Marui says.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Yukimura says. “Everyone in a circle, then?”

“I never understood this game,” Sanada grumbles as they sat in a circle on the floor.

“You start with five fingers,” Marui says. “When it’s your turn, you say something you haven’t done. If anyone else has done it, they lower a finger. The first person to lower all five fingers loses.”

“Or wins,” Kirihara says. “Depends on how you think about it.”

Both Yagyuu and Niou are sitting outside of the circle.

“You aren’t playing?” Yukimura asks. “Why not?”

Yagyuu could not up with a valid reason not to and moves to sit between Yanagi and Oyama. Niou does not have a choice in the matter—Marui grabs his ankle and yanks him off the sofa and onto the floor.

“I’ll go first!” Urayama says excitedly. “Never have I ever kissed a boy.”

Marui, Niou, and Yagyuu lower their fingers.

“Never have I ever streaked,” Oyama says, looking at Kirihara.

“One time,” Kirihara mutters, lowering a finger. “One freaking time.”

“Never have I ever cheated on a test,” Yagyuu says.

Urayama lowers his first finger.

“Shiita?” Oyama asks.

Urayama pouted. “I was in first grade and didn’t know how to spell ‘because’ on my spelling test.”

“Never have I ever had sex,” Sanada says.

Yukimura, Jackal, Niou, Yagyuu, and Kirihara all lower fingers.

“Marui, you’ve had sex,” Jackal says. “You had a fuck buddy for two years.”

“Ren and I never had _sex_ sex,” Marui says. “I don’t count it so I haven’t.” 

“Never have I ever smoked pot,” Yukimura says. “Though I would like to at some point.”

“You don't need to add that,” Sanada sighs.

Marui, Niou, Yagyuu, and Kirihara lower their fingers. 

Jackal looks at Kirihara, who shrugs and says, “Zaizen had some once.”

Marui nudges Niou. “You’re down to two.”

“You’re at three, smart ass,” Niou replies.

“Never have I ever put peanut butter on my face,” Yanagi says.

Yukimura lowers a finger. “For the record, Renji dared me and I was a tad bit tipsy.”

“Never have I ever ditched school for more than one class,” Jackal says. 

Marui, Niou, and Kirihara lower their fingers.

“My turn?” Marui says. He smiles wickedly and looks at Niou, who has one finger left. “Never have I ever hooked up.”

“Define hooking up,” Niou says.

“One night stand.”

Niou flips Marui off with his one remaining finger. “Nice try. Never have I ever smuggled cake into class.”

Marui drops a finger. “Screw you.”

“You wish.”

“Stop flirting,” Kirihara says. “Never have I ever… kissed someone in this room on the lips.”

Marui and Niou drop their fingers. Yagyuu drops his without annoying noticing.

“Marui, Niou, you’re both out,” Yukimura says. “What should you have to do as punishment for losing?”

“We never agreed on punishments,” Marui says.

“Because it was obvious,” Kirihara says.

“I say they streak,” Jackal says.

“You want to see my dick that bad?” Marui jokes.

They quiet down as they think of something to do then Kirihara breaks into this massive grin that looks like it belongs on the devil. He says, “Push ‘em in the pool.”

Marui shakes his head, begins to say something about it being freezing outside, but Jackal picks him up and hauls him over his shoulder like he’s a sack of flour. He kicks and flails, but Jackal laughs and doesn’t let go. Damn it. Jackal is fit.

“I hate you!” Marui shouts. “I did not agree to this!”

Yukimura leads them outside. They don’t bother putting on coats. The pool is open but cold and Jackal dumps Marui into the water. 

To spite Jackal for tossing him in, Marui stays under, holding his breath so no bubbles go up. He sinks to the bottom, making sure not to float up. 

Meanwhile, Niou’s chest tightens. He knew it was impossible for Marui to be anything but fine—he’s probably just joking and messing around, like he always is—but Niou’s memory flips back to the worst night of his life.

His mother just lying there, not moving, sitting in the water that continued to run out of the tub and soak the floor. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know. 

_Shit._

He does not want to think about that. 

Why isn’t Marui coming back up?

Yagyuu looks at Niou, frowning. “Are you alright, Niou-kun?”

Niou doesn’t say anything. He silently turns around, wondering where he could get some space. He heads upstairs, goes into the first room on the right, and locks the door behind him, triple checking it. It looks like a guest room, boring and undecorated with a large bed. He doesn't turn on the light. He opens the window, not caring if it’s below freezing outside and he doesn’t have a coat on. He desperately needs fresh air.

His chest is tight. He can feel his entire body down to his bones but he is still confined in his too tight skin. He doesn’t have enough space. His mind is racing, heart pounding, throat lumping and tightening. 

He can’t breathe. The panic is overwhelming. Fuck. He can't _breathe_.

He can see the pool outside. Marui breaks the surface, everyone laughing. Niou can hear Marui when he asks, “Where’d Niou go?”

“He probably ran away like a chicken,” Kirihara says. “Let’s find him.”

Jackal helps to pull Marui out of the pool. Yagyuu says something.  


Niou backs away from the window, sitting on the floor with his back to the bed and his head shoved between his legs. He tries to breath, grips his hair to stay calm but it doesn’t do much. He’s shaking like crazy. He _feels_ crazy. 

He hates feeling like this.  He hates how useless he feels, how out of control of his own emotions and body he is. He hates how one stupid memory can affect him, how just seeing his boyfriend underwater freaks him out more than ten years later. He’s moved on. So why the fuck is he having a panic attack? 

He’s never freaked out like his before when seeing other people in water. Is it because it’s Marui? Probably. Fuck. When did this strange become so important? What the hell happened to all of his walls that kept things like _this_ from happening?

He can hear them shouting his name. It all seems blurred. Time drags.  After what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, someone tries open the door to the room. 

“You in there?”

It’s Marui. 

He takes a few seconds to swallow the spit in his mouth and make sure his voice won’t crack and shake when he speaks.  “Yeah."

Marui tries the door again. “Can I come in?”

Niou needs to change the topic—anything but himself. 

“You should change out of your clothes before you get hypothermia or something,” Niou says. Deep breaths. Don’t hyperventilate. That makes it worse.

“I already did,” Marui says. “Niou, what’s going on? Yagyuu said you were shaking or somethIng. Are you—are you having a panic attack?”

He’s never straight out told Marui about his panic attacks, but Marui isn’t stupid, of course he would pick up on Niou’s anxious traits. People usually play it off as him being weird—the hair and piercings help with the ‘weird’ thing—but people who actually care about him (and he thinks Marui does) realize it pretty damn quick.

Shit. Keep breathing. 

“Niou? Please. It’s just me.”

Niou stands up. He unlocks the door.

.

Marui stares at Niou for a few moments when the door opens. Neither of them says anything. Niou looks like he would rather hurt himself than expose himself like this and that does not settle well with Marui, who knows people who have hurt themselves in similar situations. 

“Hey,” Marui says. His hair is still wet. It drips down onto his shoulders. Niou stares at the wet spot on his shoulder instead of meeting his face.

“Hey,” Niou says. He swallows visibly, like it hurts.

From downstairs, Yukimura shouts, “Marui, any luck?”

Marui looks down the stairs. The gang is all there. Marui calls down, “Give me five minutes. I’ll be right there.” 

Niou moves aside, letting Marui into the dark room before shutting the door and locking it again. The white-haired punk sits on the floor with his back to the bed, knees pulled up close to his chest.  He looks so damn hurt and scared and broken, and it breaks Marui’s heart. 

“So,” Marui says, wishing he was better at words when it really mattered, “you have panic attacks.”

“No shit.” 

“Sorry. I don’t really know what to say.” Niou grabs at his hair, wincing when it hurts but he doesn’t stop. Marui flinches. “Don’t do that.”

Niou drops his to circle his arms around his knees. He rocks subtly, hardly but definitely moving. Quietly, he says, “I’m fucked up.”

“Okay. You’re fucked up.”

Niou shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “How can you make it sound so simple?” He stops smiling, his face void of energy and emotion, like all he wants to do is shut down and stop. Stop existing, stop feeling. Just _stop_. 

“We’re all a little fucked up. You listen to my music. You know… You know I’m a bit fucked up too.” Marui pauses. “You don’t have to tell me, but I won’t make fun of you for whatever it is.”

“I know you won’t.”

_Then why can’t you tell me?_ Marui thinks, but he knows that’s not the right thing to say. 

“Did you bring any pot?” Marui asks. Niou shakes his head. “Do you want to leave? Do you want _me_ to leave?”

There’s a moment of pause. Then, “No."

“Are you going to hurt yourself? Do I need to move sharp objects out of the room, or make sure you don’t take a hot shower, or help you cut your nails or anything?” 

“You have this down to a science.”

Marui can’t argue. “Yeah, well, when your best friend has chronic depression, you get used to it.” He gives Niou a moment to think before asking another question. “Do you need anything?”

“My bag.”

Marui nods rapidly, jumping to his feet. “I’ll be right back. Give me a minute. I’ll make sure no one comes up here. I’ll be right back, okay?” Niou nods into his arms, hugging his knees closer. Marui hurries out of the room and down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, he sees his friends. He walks right past them towards the room they dropped their bags in. He finds Niou’s underneath Jackal’s coat. His friends follow him through the house.

“Is everything okay?” Yukimura asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Marui says. 

It’s not his place to say what’s going on. If Niou wants to after the fact, then he can. Until then, Marui will take his secret to the grave. That’s just what you do. If someone trusts you with something this personal, unless they’re going to hurt themselves or someone else, you shut up and listen to them and help anyway you can.

“If I can help, let me know,” Yukimura says. Marui knows Yukimura means it, but there’s not much he could do to help. Marui doesn’t even know if he’s helping or making things worse—panic attacks are a strange thing—but Niou asked for him to stay so that’s what he’s going to do.

“I’ll let you know,” Marui says. “You guys keep doing whatever. Watch that scientifically inaccurate zombie movie Yanagi was talking about on facebook last week.”

He returns to the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Niou uncurls from his ball when Marui sits in front of him. Niou digs through his bag for his phone and headphones, shoving both buds into his ears. The dull light of the screen makes his face ghostly in the nearly dark room.

Niou turns the music up loud enough for Marui to hear, but he can’t make out the words. It’s definitely not his band, but Marui isn’t hurt in the least. Niou rests his head on his arms and breathes deeply, ignoring everything but the sounds in his ears. Whatever he’s listening to must help. Marui wonders what it is but does not ask.  Music can be private. Marui respects that. 

Marui sits there quietly while Niou breathes in and out, in and out, because that’s all he can do. 

And like a storm, it eventually passes.

Niou lifts his head, turning down his music but not taking out his headphones. “I feel like shit.”

Marui grins, trying to make him smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Niou struggles to keep his eyes open. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Do you want to sleep in here, or do you need help getting home? Not that you need help. I meant—“

“I know,” Niou says calmly. “You’re shit at words, Mr. Song Writer.”

“And you cover your food in ungodly amounts of ketchup, but you don’t see me mentioning that, do you? Yeah, I thought so.”  Niou’s head lolls to the side and he smiles, his eyes closing. Marui asks,  “But really, do you want to go home and sleep, or stay here?” 

"Stay."

Niou stands, leaving his phone on the floor. He tugs his shirt up over his head, reaches down to take off his socks, then jugs off his jeans. He makes his way to the bed in his boxers, reaching up to take out his facial and ear piercings as he goes. He sets the pile of metal on the nightstand. When he sits on the bed, he takes out his tongue stud then hip piercings. Finally done, he curls up like a cat with a blanket.

“You’re cute,” Marui says.

“I am fire and death,” Niou replies jokingly.

“Super cute.”

_And more like yourself,_ Marui thinks happily. 

“I'll see you later, I guess,” Marui says, unsure what else to say. “If you need anything, text me.”

Niou does not respond. He's already asleep.

.

While Marui and Niou are hidden away doing who knows what for whatever that was, the rest of the guys take Marui’s advice and watch that poorly produced movie Yanagi had mentioned awhile ago. 

Every five minutes Yanagi finishes his previous rant and begins another—effects, camera angles, continuity issues, or his favorite, scientific inaccuracy. Kirihara and Urayama like the bad special effects. Oyama hates seeing the blood no matter how fake it looks. 

Sanada leaves them and the others in the living room to go make more popcorn. After starting up the microwave, he takes out his phone and sends a text to Kato.

_Are you okay?_

The response comes a minute later—Sanada only knows the exact time because of the microwave, not because he was holding his phone waiting for it to vibrate. 

_Yeah. You okay Hat?_

Sanada lets out a small sigh of relief. He doesn’t know why, but when he saw Niou run off, it reminded him of Kato. Rather, the Kato from a few years ago. 

He replies, 

_I’m fine.  
You can disregard this conversation._

Her response comes when the microwave buzzes. 

_Okay…?_

He pours the popcorn into a clean bowl. She texts him again.

_Are you drunk?_

He goes back into the living room, sitting down next to Yukimura, who takes the bowl of popcorn from him and shoves a fistful into his mouth. Despite that, not a single piece falls onto his lap, like he has a hidden talent for graceful popcorn eating. Another text.

_Hat respond to me._

Sanada lowers the brightness on his phone so Yukimura doesn’t read over his shoulder. His phone buzzes with multiple messages in short succession.

_I want to know if you’re shit faced._   
_You’re totally shit faced, aren’t you?_   
_We’ll go to the hospital together. You for alcohol poisoning and me for salmonella._

He finally responds: _Why would you have salmonella?_

_I just ate a whole batch of raw cookie dough. I regret nothing. Except maybe the salmonella._

Sanada smiles.

Yukimura leans over and whispers, “Be careful, Genichirou, you’re being obvious.”

A few minutes later, Marui comes down. Yagyuu visibly straightens, like a cat that caught something moving out of the corner of its eye. Marui sits between Urayama and Oyama on the sofa where he proceeds to sink down.

“Is he okay?” Urayama asks. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Marui says, looking like he could fall asleep any second. “He’s going to sleep.” As he talks, his head lolls onto Oyama’s shoulder. “Do you mind? You're a good pillow.”

“No,” Oyama answers.

“Apparently you’re going to sleep too,” Urayama says, smiling.

“Yeah. Tired. Wake me up if we watch a good movie.”

.

The next morning, Yagyuu is the first to wake up. He puts on his glasses and examines the living, which looks more like a war zone with tired bodies lying everywhere. Marui and Urayama had slept on the sofa. Yukimura had curled into a large chair like a cat. The others were all on the floor like Yagyuu with a mountain of blankets and pillows spread between them; Kirihara was sprawled shamelessly. 

Yagyuu stands, quietly walks around everyone, and makes his way to the bathroom. He takes a piss—a crude phrase he picked up from Niou—then goes into the kitchen to see if he can find the coffee. 

He sees Niou filling up a glass of water at the fridge. 

“Yo,” Niou greets cooly, detached. 

“Good morning, Niou-kun.” Yagyuu adjusts his glasses. “Marui-kun did not tell us what happened, but I assume you had a panic attack last night.”

Niou takes his cup and leans against one of the many granite counters. He meets Yagyuu’s eyes and does not answer. Niou’s attractive blue eyes no longer lure him closer, they push him away. Still, Yagyuu does not falter.

“Are you alright?” Yagyuu asks. 

“I could go for a smoke right now.” Niou shrugs a single shoulder and takes a sip of water. 

“I’m fresh out. I apologize.”

More seriously, Niou asks, “Do you still smoke? I never told you how much you should pay for certain amounts and how to tell if you’re being ripped off. It you’re buying, I can give you the names of people who won’t rip you off.”

Yagyuu smiles, shaking his head, and says, “No, I do not smoke.”

Niou looks out the kitchen window, silently drinking his water, probably waiting for Yagyuu to go away. Yagyuu, however, stays and begins to search the cabinets for coffee. The maker is out in the open, but there is nothing on either side of it that looks like coffee beans.

Niou used to be able to read Yagyuu like a piece of paper. He should have been able to tell that Yagyuu was lying about the marijuana, but he asked him about dealers anyways. Maybe he’s off his game from the panic attack, or he is not as mentally quick in the morning.

_Or maybe we just grew too far apart,_ Yagyuu thinks.

“He was worried about you,” Yagyuu mentions. “Marui-kun, that is.”

“Was he now?” Niou sounds bored.

“I couldn’t even tell that you were anxious after we had sex and pushed the subject until you became uncomfortable and told me something you normally would not have. I hope he handles it much better than I did.”

Niou watches him carefully, not responding, then sets his glass down and helps Yagyuu go through the cabinets. “Are you looking for coffee? Because I saw it somewhere in here when I was looking for a glass.”

Yukimura comes in to help and Niou retreats upstairs, saying he needs to get his phone, but he does not come down until Marui goes to check on him. Then, they come down together. 

.

They agree to head out to a doughnut shop for breakfast. They pack their things and head out to the cars. Sanada, Yanagi, Yagyuu, and Kirihara were riding with Yukimura and everyone else was with Jackal.

Niou and Jackal were the first done packing and left the house to go to Jackal’s van together.

“So, uh, you okay?” Jackal asks. “Marui said you were but I would feel a bit better hearing you say it.”

Niou is pleasantly surprised. He had never really talked to Jackal. He’d heard plenty about the boy from Marui since they were best friends, but Niou didn’t know what to expect. Certainly not _that._  

“Yeah, I’m good.”

They toss their bags into the back. Niou catches Jackal staring at him.

“He really likes you—Marui, obviously,” Jackal says. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, he hasn’t said it, but I can tell. He’s writing all these songs about you. It’s driving the band nuts.” 

“Are they good songs?” Niou asks.

“They’re fucking amazing, but don’t tell him I said that. His head is big enough already.”

Niou smirks.

They jog back inside and help everyone else out. Marui meets Niou at the front steps, bag slung over his shoulder and a stupidly large smile. Marui is almost always smiling. Niou wonders how he does it. 

“I have permanent shotgun with Jackal unless Aiko is riding,” Marui says. “He listens to these weird Portuguese radio stations in the car if I don’t take over the radio. You okay with sitting with Oyama and Urayama in the back?”

“As long as I don’t have to sit between them.”

“Yeah, no, you don’t have to. Urayama’s always in the middle ‘cause he’s so small.” 

Kirihara and Urayama come flying past.

“I’m gonna die of starvation if we don’t eat soon,” Kirihara groans.

“Baby,” Urayama says.

Kirihara goes to shove him and Urayama laughs, running ahead.

Marui laughs and Niou grins.

“So do my friends pass?” Marui asks. “Are they awesome enough to impress you?”

Niou taps his lips a few times and acts like he’s thinking very hard. He says, “I don’t know. I need to tally the scores, do some cross referencing—“

“Dick,” Marui laughs, shoving Niou gently. “It’s important to me that you like my friends. They all like you, if you care.”

“They could be worse,” Niou says. He tilts his head and smiles honestly in a way that he knows makes Marui crazy. Marui gets this soft look in his eyes and his tight shoulders drop a bit, like he’s more relaxed around Niou without even realizing it. 

“I’ll take that,” Marui says.

“But I think I like you the best,” Niou adds, not breaking eye contact. 

Yukimura walks down the stairs, smiling. “Stop flirting, boys.”

Marui grabs Niou by the front of his shirt with one hand, brings him down to kiss him, and flips Yukimura off with his other hand. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Kirihara sits on his bed with the first aid kit from the bathroom down the hall and the icepack he keeps in the freezer for when he fuck’s up big time. He stretches out his left leg, propping it up on a pillow, and puts the icepack on top. He still needs to wrap it, but right now it looks like a pale, demented grapefruit, and he wants to wait until it isn’t freakishly large to wrap it.  

It was his fault. He knew skating in the cold wouldn’t end well. He had been on the half pipe and at the sound of Hiyoshi’s voice, he turned his head to look. He broke the first rule of skating: don’t look away. Or maybe that’s the second rule? Either way, he messed up. His wheels hit a patch of black ice and he lost his footing, colliding with the wood on his way down the half pipe. He figures his head would be in two right now if he hadn’t been wearing his helmet.

Hiyoshi only made it worse by running over and insisting he help Kirihara get back home. It had been friendly with no intentions that Kirihara wishes were there. The touch of Hiyoshi’s arm on him, wrapped around his waist to help him walk, is still fresh in his mind. Kirihara can deal with physical pain, but he’s never dealt with pain like this.

This is worse than awkward, arbitrary wet dreams. This is worse than wondering if his gay best friend likes him. This is so much worse than all of that. 

He picks up his phone and texts Marui.

_can u talk?_

Two minutes later, his phone rings. 

“What’s up?” Marui asks. Kirihara hears Marui’s gum pop.

“Hey, Marui-senpai.”

“Yeah, hey, what’s up?” Marui repeats. “Is everything okay? Are you drunk at a party and need a ride? ‘Cause I’m busing tables at Jackal’s, but I can get a break, and Jackal and I can grab one of his dad’s vans and be over in a few minutes.”

“Did you just volunteer me?” Jackal shouts from far away.

“Can you talk somewhere so Jackal-senpai can’t hear?”

“Uh, sure, hang on.” There’s a minute pause while Marui shouts he’s taking a break. The silence continues as he moves from the restaurant to the upstairs. Eventually, Marui says, “Go for it.”

“So you know how I like chocolate milkshakes a lot? I dip my fries and chicken fingers in them, and it’s awesome. But I may like vanilla now and I don’t know what to do. Not all vanilla, just one vanilla in particular. Do you know what I mean?”

“No.” Marui sighs and blows a bubble. “Akaya, what’s going on?”

“How’d you know that you liked boys?” Kirihara asks bluntly. He covers his eyes with his arm and wills his blush away. It doesn’t it go away.

“ _What_?”

“I mean, you’re bi, right? So you’re half-gay, half-straight?” 

“No. It’s not like that at all.” Marui sighs again and Kirihara wonders if he should hang up now and cut his losses. “You never asked about it when I came out to you. What’s happened that’s making you say stupid shit?”

“I don’t know,” Kirihara lies. He tangles his hand in his hair and tugs. Why can’t he just shut up and hang up? “I was just wondering how you knew.”

“It’s kinda hard to to explain.”

“Try?”

“I knew for awhile. It really is hard to explain… A lot of people fight with it, but I knew. I still fought with it, but I knew deep down that I liked guys and girls, that I always have and always will. It’s a feeling, I guess.”

Kirihara shifts his injured knee and readjusts the icepack. For a singer and writer, Marui can be shit at words.

“You know you don’t have to define your sexuality if you don’t want to. And you don’t have to like a whole gender. You can like one person. You could like a boy and still be straight. Sexuality is weird and complicated and no matter what, you’re never weird for liking someone. If you really like someone, gender usually doesn’t matter.” 

“Okay,” Kirihara says softly.

“And you know I’m here if you ever wanna talk about anything, Akaya.”

“Okay,” Kirihara repeats. He wishes he would disappear. Marui doesn’t sound awkward at all. How does he not sound awkward when Kirihara basically just asked why he liked dick. 

_This is the fucking worst,_ Kirihara thinks.

Marui adds, “Don’t forget to come to our show tomorrow if you have time. Yukimura’s stopping by at some point. I’m sure he’d buy you some hot chocolate if you whined enough.”

“Maybe,” Kirihara says, more at ease now that the topic has changed. “If I don’t, good luck and all that shit. Break a leg, but you know, not really ‘cause that would suck balls.”

“Yeah,” Marui laughs. “See ya around.”

Kirihara hangs up and groans. 

.

Marui tries not to think too much into his strange conversation with Kirihara. Marui met Kirihara through Yukimura back in junior high and Kirihara has always said strange things for no reason. He feels like he should text Kirihara, repeat what he said about being there if he wants to talk, but that would feel weird so he doesn’t. Instead he sends:

_Aiko gives some good relationship advice._

_k...  
can we nevr talk bout this agan?_

_Talk about what?_

_ur not as fnny as u think senpai_

Marui rolls his eyes. He’s about to put his phone away when he sees a text from Niou.

_see you @ the show_

Marui smiles and heads down to the basement with a jump in his step. Marui hasn’t seen Niou since they were at Yukimura’s. It was only a few days ago, but considering what happened that night, those few days feel like a lifetime. The prospect of seeing Niou again makes Marui feel like a lovesick teenage girl.

_Maybe I am a lovesick teenage girl_ , Marui thinks miserably. _Now is not the time to have a gender crisis, Bunta._

The band comes over early to pack their instruments for the acoustic gig at the coffee shop. Oyama and Urayama come with cheap coffee and multiple bags of candy. Kato shows up next, crashing on the sofa and complaining about her idiot lab partner who refuses to do their share of the homework. Jackal comes in with Aiko, who brings lemon bars as a treat.

Kato grabs her cajon box and makes sure to add her dampers to her drum kit. Jackal doesn’t do much other than watch as Marui, Oyama and Urayama run through the order of songs they plan to play. They’ve practiced all their acoustic songs but still haven’t decided on the definite order.

“Then Oyama will sing a cover of whatever Urayama and he want to give me a break,” Marui says.

“And then I’ll play some chords while you both take a break from singing,” Urayama says. “Kato is going to be on her cajon and Jackal is doing miscellaneous percussion.”

“Kato, what did you bring from your house?” Jackal asks.

Kato reaches for her bag. She’s played percussion since grade school when she meet Krewella and has a wide variety of instruments. Some are large like her drum set, and others are smaller like maracas or bells. Marui’s seen her work magic with salt shakers and plastic buckets.

“I grabbed the maracas and tambourines,” Kato says after checking. “I think I put my launchpad on my bed but forgot to grab it because I’m a dumb ass.”

“I can’t play that thing anyways,” Jackal says. “But I can do maracas and tambourines. Hopefully.”

“Babe, all you need to do is tap them,” Aiko laughs. She gets up on her toes, using her hands to grab his shirt and haul him down to her height, and kisses his cheek. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Kato says.

“I know,” Aiko says, leaning against Jackal, “but if he knows that, he’ll run away.”

Kato grins. “True, very true.”

“I’m right here,” Jackal sighs.

The girls laugh.

“We still need a few songs to fill up the time, but we can improvise,” Marui says, switching the subject. “Maybe Oyama can sing a few more.”

Oyama makes a face and digs his hand into his bag of chocolate. Oyama has a beautiful, deep voice that works well with Marui’s. It’s just that Oyama doesn’t love singing the way Marui does. He’ll occasionally request to be the lead vocalist for acoustics that he’s adapted, but he prefers to be the accompaniment and focus on his guitar work. In terms of raw instrumental talent, Oyama’s guitar work is the best, but overall Urayama is more instrumentally inclined. 

The band never fights about who is best, they just accept each person’s individually abilities and work from there.

“Maybe,” Oyama says. “I’m already doing three songs by myself.” 

“We can figure out the rest when we get there,” Marui says. “There’s no reason to worry.”

“My dad said he’s sending someone over with one of our vans in an hour,” Jackal says. “So we need to get everything upstairs.”

“If we don’t move, maybe they’ll forget we’re here, like dumbass dinosaurs who sing,” Kato whispers to Aiko, who laughs. “Damn it, Aiko, now they saw us!”

Aiko laughs harder, clutching onto Jackal for support, while Kato snorts at her side.

.

They arrive half an hour early to set up, adjusting the blinding lights above the corner which will be their stage. Kato puts her cajon down, sits on it, and smiles while Oyama, Urayama and Marui argue about arm room and hitting each other. Jackal and Aiko sit at one of the few empty tables, knocking their feet together and grinning as they pass a cup of hot chocolate back and forth.

“My entrance exams are coming up soon,” Aiko says. 

“Which schools did you decide to apply to?” Jackal says. “You keep changing your mind. I can’t keep track. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe, I know it’s hard to keep track. Yanagi convinced me to take the exam for Tokyo University with him and Kato, but they don’t have the program I want. I think Yanagi really wants to go there, though. My top choice is that vet school, the one you can’t pronounce.”

“Whatchamacallit University.”

“Yes, Whatchamacallit University,” Aiko says, smiling. She sips at the hot chocolate. “It’s highly competitive and I don’t know if I’ll get in, so I’m applying to a few others—“

“Hey, you’ll get in. You’re, like, in the top five percent of our class and have been studying every hour of every day since the start of the semester.” Jackal grabs her hand and looks her in the eyes. “And even if you don’t get in, you’ll get in somewhere else. If you don’t get in somewhere else, you’ll figure it out because you’re smarter than me.”

Aiko laughs softly. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m sure there’s a few I can get into. Even if I don’t get into a pre-vet program like I want, I’ll go to Rikkaidai. I don’t have to take any exams since it’s connected to the high school. I can retake the exams for the pre-vet and can transfer my second year.”

“So you did think this through. That’s good because whatever I told you just now was word vomit. You’re much smarter than me. Do whatever you think is best and ignore whatever I say.”

Aiko hands him the hot chocolate. “You’re a sweet idiot.”

“I’d melt in the rain if I was any sweeter.”

Aiko rolls her eyes. “Babe, stop while you’re ahead.”

Jackal grins. She leans across the table to gently kiss his cheek. Jackal’s grin turns into a full blown smile.

.

It’s not the first acoustic gig they’ve ever had and hopefully it won’t be the last. As much as Marui loves the live shows, loves playing the crowd and being covered in sweat, he likes playing low key shows with just Urayama and Oyama to back him up. 

They sit on stools on this little stage. Urayama and Oyama look at each other as they count Marui in by tapping their guitars, mouthing, “One, two, three, four.”

When Marui sings, his voice is softer and he’s able to carry the notes he usually has to cut short. No one is paying them much attention, no one is chanting their name, but it still gives Marui a rush to sing. He loves being able to perform, no matter in what capacity, and put his feelings into song lyrics. He is shit for words, so sometimes he can only express himself through music. Writing lyrics comes more naturally than giving advice. What song he plays says more about him than a midnight conversation about the meaning of life. Music is who he is, it's a part of time.  

They run through several songs together then Oyama takes over to sing a few of his favorites so Marui can take his breath. Marui loves Oyama’s voice—deep and rich with a good range; he can hit those high notes if he has to and he’s always on key.

Eventually, Oyama and Urayama take a break too. Marui and Oyama suck on honey sticks too sooth their throats and Urayama sits in Kato’s lap, drinking her hot chocolate.

“It sounds good,” Aiko says. “Also, now that you're all here, I can tell you: Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi won’t be able to come like planned.”

Urayama frowns. “What happened?”

“Yukimura had a strange feeling in his legs. Don’t panic,” Aiko adds quickly. “They went to the hospital and everything was fine, he’s not sick again. It was all a big misunderstanding with the pharmacy—they gave him muscle relaxers instead of his meds.”

“Basically, nothing’s wrong but they can’t come,” Kato says. 

Urayama rests his head against Kato’s. “That’s good.”

“Any news on Akaya?” Marui asks. "He said he might come."

“He says his knee is the size of a grapefruit and he can’t put on his pants,” Kato says, rolling her eyes. “Fucking idiot hurt himself skateboarding.”

“I wonder if he has a concussion,” Marui says. “That would explain that weird phone call last night.”

“What?” Jackal asks.

“Nothing,” Marui says.

A few people leaving compliment them and ask for the band’s name, but most walk right by them without saying anything. It’s not like they were expecting huge recognition for the gig, but they are getting paid a pretty penny which is a nice bonus. Plus it's nice to see people smile and nod their head to their music while they drink over priced coffee. 

Marui, Urayama, and Oyama get back on stage and run through the rest of the planned set. They swap out a few songs when one of them doesn’t feel like playing it—Marui believes half the reason they sound good is because they enjoy what they play. 

They finish up their acoustic of their song Reckless and the Brave then Marui turns to Oyama, who has been looking at him for the past two verses.

“Niou-senpai is here,” Oyama says.

Marui looks around spots Niou, dressed in a heavy pea coat with dark gloves and all his piercings. He has a book tucked under his arm. He’s at the register paying for his drink. Marui waits for him to get his order and turn around. Niou catches his eye and grins. Marui waves.

“Ready?” Oyama asks. 

Marui can’t be distracted, not even by his boyfriend. He has a job to do.

“Somewhere in Neverland, right?” Marui asks. The guitarists nod.

Niou sits at the table behind the gang with two mugs and his book. Aiko turns her chair to face Niou so he feels more included and Kato begins to talk to him. Marui is glad Niou likes his friends, but he’s also glad his friends like Niou.

The song is over before Marui realizes it, like he was singing on automatic.

“That’s the last song we planned,” Urayama says. “I think we finished early.”

“Yeah, we did,” Marui says. 

Kato and Jackal have realized it too and are coming over to discuss the plan. They’re being paid for another half an hour. They can’t just bail.

“What should we do?” Jackal asks.

“I think we should play Stand Too Close,” Marui says. 

“We haven’t finished it,” Oyama says.

“I feel like it would go well. I don’t know why. I know we haven’t practiced it a lot and we’re still arguing over some of the finger points, but that song feels right right now.”

“I’m not gonna argue with your gut,” Kato says. “Jackal, let’s go talk to the manager.”

Niou looks over and mouths, _What’s going on?_

Marui mouths back, _I can’t read lips. Sorry._

Niou looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

Kato and Jackal go to ask the working manager if it’s okay to switch from acoustic to the full band. After a few minutes of talking, Kato and Jackal come back with wide smiles and their thumbs up. It takes a few minutes to plug in everything, put all of the mics expect Marui’s to the side, put the dampers on Kato’s drums, and find the right recording on Urayama’s keyboard. By the time they’re finished, most of the people in the store are watching with rapt interest, Niou included. They have the volume set to the lowest possible setting so the song won't be overly loud.

Oyama has his electric guitar out but not plugged into an amp and Kato has pushed her cajon to the side. Urayama straps his acoustic across his chest and when Marui nods, Urayama leans over to his keyboard to press a button. They’ve recorded some parts of the song that they can’t play every time due to the number of people in the band—clapping, the keyboard, some cool percussion things that Kato added in. 

Urayama and Marui come in together. Marui looks at Niou and sings:

_“If I stand too close I might fall in,_   
_But if I’m too far gone I’ll never win._   
_If you believe in me, I might just want to spend some time with you again.”_

Feelings from years ago come back. The questioning feelings and resistance about his sexuality, about whether or not a gay man like Niou would be okay with his bisexuality, about falling for someone after his first heartbreak. He still isn’t sure why someone wild and untamed like Niou is with him, why anyone would want to be with him when his personal anxieties about himself seem to casually drift into his words at every possible opportunity. 

_“I’m afraid I tend to disappear into an anxious state when you draw near._   
_There is no reasoning, it’s quite a silly thing,_   
_But it’s the way I’ve been for years._   
_So I will understand if you don’t stay,_   
_They say I’m great at first, but then the magic fades_   
_Into an awful hue of dismal views and pessimistic attitude._

_“All this distance,_   
_Years of sweet resistance,_   
_Swirling over head_   
_Like angry clouds of discontent.”_

Distance between Niou and him, years of pretending he wasn’t feeling these things for boys and girls, years of getting over his horrible ex and his intimacy issues.

Kato’s grin is enormous as she flourishes her drums and Oyama increases his volume. Marui leans in with the mic, grinning at Niou and singing straight to him, like they’re the only ones in the room. He feels giddy with cliché feelings of elation and love, and he does not try to repress them because he could fall in love with that man in a single skipped heartbeat and he would be alright with that.

_“If I stand too close I might fall in,_   
_But if I’m too far gone I’ll never win._   
_If you believe in me, I might just want to spend some time with you again,_   
_I'll spend some time with you again.”_

The overpowering instrumentals fall back to Urayama’s acoustic and Marui’s voice. The words pour out with more feeling than he had in practice and it’s all because of Niou, because of his stupid smile and those stupid blue eyes that make him uneasy in the best of ways. 

_“If I stand too close I might fall in,_   
_But if I’m too far gone I’ll never win._   
_If you believe in me, I might just want to spend some time with you again.”_

Marui fades out and for the first time that night, they get an applause. Marui can’t help but laugh. Saying that to Niou, _singing it_ to him has lifted a weight off his chest. 

.

Niou stays seated as they pack up their equipment. A few people come up and ask if they have CDs, saying that their teenagers would love it or that they loved it, and Jackal roots through his backpack for a few. Aiko comes to the rescue, opening her bag and selling the CDs at the standard price. Jackal kisses her temple affectionately, murmuring, “Thank god you’re smarter than every person in this band.”

“Take a break from packing and go sit with him,” Urayama says to Marui.

“We have this covered,” Oyama adds.

Marui smiles and goes to sit across from Niou. Niou looks up from his book, slides the only mug on the table towards Marui, and says, “Tea with extra honey.”

“You hate tea with honey,” Marui says. 

“You said you drink it after every show.”

Marui smiles and sips at the tea Niou bought especially for him, holding the warm mug in his hands. “So what’d you think?” Marui asks curiously. He cares about Niou’s opinion. Niou has good taste in music and, well, when you write a song about someone, you hope they like it.

“Are all musicians this insecure?” Niou asks smartly.

“My ex hated my original music.” Marui shrugs, acting like the words don’t hurt. They do. “He didn't like what I wrote, especially the love songs. He thought the entire band was a horrible idea."

“It was a good song. Your ex must have had horrible taste in music.”

“Yeah, he really did.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter was “Stand Too Close” by Motion City Soundtrack.


	21. Chapter 21

On the first day at school after winter break, Kirihara jumps onto Yukimura’s back in the lobby. Rather, he hugs him from behind with enough force to knock them both into Sanada, who catches them.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Yukimura-senpai!” Kirihara says, nearly crying. “I was so scared when you thought you were sick again!”

Yukimura smiles and pats Kirihara’s arms, which are wrapped around his chest. “It’s okay,” Yukimura says. “Now will you please let go? I’m stepping on Genichirou’s foot.”

Kirihara backs off. Yukimura turns and smiles at the younger boy.

“I was scared,” Kirihara repeats. “Really scared.”

“I’m fine, aren’t I? I overreacted.”

“You must have been scared too.”

Yukimura’s smile fell. “Well, yes, I was. But like I said, I’m fine now. I need to apologize to the band for missing their show. Did you go, Akaya?”

Kirihara shakes his head. “I hurt my knee and couldn’t put on my pants.”

“You’re wearing pants now,” Sanada points out.

“It’s less swollen now,” Kirihara says, rolling his eyes. “And it’s wrapped up in a knee brace. It’s fine.”

“That’s good.”

Kirihara stays with Yukimura and Sanada until they leave to go to their separate classrooms. Kirihara goes to his class—he isn’t particularly close friends with anyone there—and sits at his desk near the window.

Kirihara stares out the window, staring at the bright reflection of the sun on the snow to stay awake, and desperately wishes it were still winter break. Nothing beats sleeping in and hanging out with his friends all day. Well, skating comes close, but usually he does that with his friends too. He doesn’t even have a skateboard on him today because he broke a wheel when he fell and still needed to fix it.

Ugh. School _sucks_.

He’s in the middle of his second class when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He frowns, pulling his phone out under his desk, and sees a message from Zaizen.

_Let’s skip and meet up at McDonalds near Hiyoshi’s._

Kirihara grins—he is totally up for that.

Before he can reply, he gets a message from Hiyoshi. Must have been a group text.

_It’s the first day back. Give it at least a week before trying to turn me into a delinquent._

Kirihara snorts and types, _We ran from cops on ur bday._

Hiyoshi replies, _Fair point. Text me when you guys are on your way._

It takes Zaizen the longest to get there. Kirihara decides to wait until next period to come up with some bullshit excuse—“My stomach hurts and I think I’m gonna throw up, can I go to the nurse?”—and walking out through the side door. He sprints to the front gate, grinning, blood pumping in his veins.

Zaizen comes up with the best ideas at the best of times.

More importantly, he gets to see his friends, he gets to see Hiyoshi. Why is he excited to see Hiyoshi in particular? Kirihara didn’t know. He isn’t gay, that’s for sure, but he isn’t going to deny that he _likes_ being with Hiyoshi—really likes it.

He’s so fucked isn’t he?

But it’s not like anything will ever come from it. Just because Hiyoshi is gay doesn’t mean that he likes Kirihara, who plans on never ever acting on his feelings, whatever they may be. He isn’t going to mess up his relationship with his best friend over awkward sex dreams.

Relationship isn’t the best word. When did everything involving Hiyoshi become so damn complicated?

Kirihara hopes on a bus, ignoring the look the driver gives him, and sits down. He puts in his headphones, puts on Zero to Hero, and tilts his head against the window.

 _“And as I gently sip this drink,_  
_I think about my lack of future,_  
_And all the places I could learn to fall in love._

 _“I know I shouldn't waste my time,_  
_Wishing I'd been better designed,_  
_Yet for some reason still think:_

_“I am wrecked. I am overblown.”_

Kirihara nearly misses his stop, running to the front of the bus to get off. He makes his way to Hyotei then to McDonalds since he only knows his way there from the school.

He gets a text from Yukimura when he shows up at Hyotei High.

_I came to your classroom to get lunch and you weren’t there. Are you skipping?_

_maybe…?_

_Just make sure to gets notes from someone in your class.  
And don’t do it again!_

Kirihara is really glad that Yukimura is okay.

Before he shoves his phone into his pocket, he texts Hiyoshi that he’s on his way to the McDonalds and heads towards the restaurant. He gets a burger with fries and a large milkshake then sits at the window. He’s barely there ten minutes when Hiyoshi shows up.

Kirihara holds out his fist for a fist bump. Hiyoshi taps his fist gently.

“What’s up?” Hiyoshi asks, out of breath.

Kirihara frowns. “Did you run here?”

“My friends caught me ditching and chased me half the way here. I lost them when Shishido-san tried to tackle me, missed, and hit his head on a pole.”

“You have friends?” Kirihara asks with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up.” Hiyoshi rolls his eyes. “Is your knee any better?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just pulled something. Nothing major.”

Hiyoshi nods again then goes to get lunch. 

Zaizen shows up within the next few minutes, ordering enough food for several people—Kirihara ends up stealing half of it.

.

They don’t skate—none of them have their skateboards in the first place—so they seek out local arcades. Some employees give them sideways, judgmental looks, since they should be in school, but no one turns down their business. After several hours, Kirihara wins a small Pikachu plushie that he names Waka-chu to piss off Hiyoshi. 

Zaizen takes them to an obscure music shop. Kirihara takes a picture of the name and sends it to Marui, who likes these kind of hole-in-the-wall places with vinyl and outdated CDs and posters of hipster bands on the walls. Marui's new boyfriend likes them too. Kirihara spots some Zero to Hero CDs for sale and grins—Hiyoshi must do a half decent job of circulating them through the area after all.

By the time Zaizen is done in the store, school has been let out and there’s nothing to do but wander the streets, cracking jokes and laughing like they own the city. Hiyoshi’s jokes are more subtle, more sarcastic and witty, than Kirihara and Zaizen’s overly brazen, crass jokes. Kirihara is sure he only catches half of them; Zaizen seems to get more of Hiyoshi's jokes. 

“Let’s grab dinner,” Kirihara says eventually.

“We ate lunch earlier,” Hiyoshi points out, frowning.

“Yeah, _earlier_ ,” Kirihara says. “My family eats dinner early. I can’t help it if I’m hungry.”

“I can’t go,” Zaizen says.

“Why not?” Kirihara asks.

“I promised my mom I would be home for dinner. I have a longer train ride home than you, Kirihara, so I gotta go now if I want to make it on time. See you guys later.”

Kirihara and Hiyoshi spend far too long in a run down diner watching skateboard videos on Kirihara’s phone. They’re on the same side of the booth sharing Hiyoshi’s headphones. Kirihara slumps into the seat and leans against Hiyoshi, who doesn’t mind, just takes control of the phone and shows Kirihara some street skating group he had never heard of before.

“Nice find,” Kirihara says. “I want to try that on the rails when it gets warmer out.”

“I was thinking of getting a board, one with sharper turners.”

Kirihara makes a vague noise. “Good idea. I want to get my painted or something. I still need to get my broken wheel fixed."

They finally leave the restaurant several hours later when the waitress tells them they need the table. They take their time leaving, lingering outside of the diner.

“You should catch your train and head home,” Hiyoshi says.

Kirihara frowns. “I don’t really wanna go home.”

“Are your parents fighting again?” Hiyoshi asks.

Kirihara shrugs. “No more than usual.”

Hiyoshi doesn’t press the matter. Kirihara is glad because the real reason is that he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to stop this, doesn’t want to say good-bye. How much more cliché can he be?

“Let’s go to the park. It’s the only place you have a chance of seeing the stars from.”

Kirihara didn’t know you could see the stars out here, with the city and all, but he decides to humor Hiyoshi. It’s better than leaving, after all.

Half an hour later, they’re lying on the grass in front of the park bench instead of sitting on it, their bags resting behind their heads as makeshift, lumpy pillows. The air is cold, the ground even colder, but Kirihara can’t seem to care as he listens to Hiyoshi point out the constellations in the night sky above their heads.

“That one is—“

Who is he kidding? He isn’t listening. He’s staring at the curve of Hiyoshi’s lips, the way he smiles a bit as he talks about some hunter. Kirihara never really got the point of looking at the stars, but he certainly likes looking at Hiyoshi.

“Are you even listening?”

Hiyoshi turns his head, gazing at him like he is more important than the specks in the sky, and Kirihara’s resolve dissolves in stardust.

“Fuck it,” Kirihara says.

“What—“

Kirihara kisses him.

He closes his eyes, not wanting to see Hiyoshi’s reaction. For several long, painful seconds, Hiyoshi does not react at all, his lips still and breath nonexistent. Kirihara feels his heart exploding in his chest and realizes this was a mistake, he messed everything up with this stupid kiss.

Then, Hiyoshi kisses him back.

He hadn’t messed up. Thank _fuck._

Kirihara slides a hand to Hiyoshi’s jaw, guiding their mouths to a better angle. Hiyoshi leans into him, so warm, so real, and this is so much better than his dreams. Hiyoshi is clumsy, or maybe Kirihara is, who knows. Kirihara doesn’t care.

Kirihara pulls back, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. His hand is still cupping Hiyoshi’s jaw. His heel is against Hiyoshi’s throat and he can feel him swallow. Hiyoshi’s pulse feels stronger and his breath speeds up. He looks serious.

Hiyoshi asks, “You’re not fucking with me, are you? Because if this is some joke, or you just wanted to know what kissing a guy would be like—“

“Do you really think I would do that to you?” Hiyoshi doesn’t answer. Quietly, Kirihara says, “It’s not a joke.” He rubs his thumb along Hiyoshi’s cheek. “I know you’re a boy and I’m confused about that because I like girls, but I thought I could ignore it and I can’t. I tried, but I can’t.”

Hiyoshi sits up. Kirihara’s hands falls to the ground.

“Hiyoshi?”

Hiyoshi rubs his face. “You’re not the only one who was trying to ignore it, idiot.”

“You mean—“

“I’m not saying it. Even you’re not _that_ stupid.”

_Oh._

Kirihara remains lying next to Hiyoshi, who leans back on his hands.

“What now?” Kirihara asks.

“I don’t know,” Hiyoshi says. “What do you want to do?”

“Do you want to hang out again sometime? Without Zaizen, I mean.”

“Let’s start with that.”

.

Kirihara and Hiyoshi do not kiss again or hold hands or anything like that. They bump fists (really awkwardly) when they part ways at the train station. Kirihara gets home before dinner and hides away in his room, putting on Zero to Hero loudly. Marui’s love songs don’t make sense, but they do make him want to dance and sing.

What the fuck is he getting himself into?

Kissing his best friend, his gay best friend, fuck he’s totally gay or bi or something isn’t he? And now they have a date planned? And what is with the happy restlessness that is thrumming through his every bone?  

He lies on his bed and calls Yukimura, who picks up on the third ring. “Akaya, are you okay? Did you oversleep on the train and end up in a strange town again?”

 _That was one time_ , Kirihara thinks. _One time._   

“Um, no,” Kirihara says. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, are you alone-alone, or are Sanada-senpai and Yanagi-senpai right there?”

“Genichirou is practicing for kendo and Renji has an interview with a school he applied to. Akaya, what’s going on? Are you jail? Do I need to post bail?”

Kirihara laughs. He rolls onto his side, his phone trapped between his head and his comforter. The only sound between them is Zero to Hero.

“I kissed a boy,” Kirihara says. “My friend—the gay one I told you about.”

Yukimura pauses. “And?” he asks expectantly.

“Is that weird?”

Kirihara can picture Yukimura’s comforting smile. “No, Akaya, it’s not weird.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you? Not even Sanada-senpai?” 

“Of course not!”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They fall into silence.

“Um, well, that’s all,” Kirihara says. “I just needed to tell someone, I guess. See you tomorrow. Can we get lunch?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then. And Akaya, thank you for trusting me.”

“No problem, Senpai.”

Yukimura hangs up. Kirihara leaves his phone pressed between his ear and the bed. He thinks of Hiyoshi, and he smiles, and he isn’t even sure why. That has to mean _something_ , right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kirihara listens to is “Attractive Today” by Motion City Soundtrack.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the crazy late and relatively short update. Be patient and hopefully inspiration will come to complete this fic! Give me slack too since it’s been awhile since I wrote this.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously in Big Mess (because I'm a piece of shit who takes 4+ months to update): Kirihara and Hiyoshi make out in a skatepark.

Someone starts a fire in the chemistry lab. Kato takes a video before her teacher grabs her by the wrist and drags her out of the room, saying some bullshit like they need to evacuate and she isn’t allowed to have her phone in the first place. Once the entire school is outside, she sneaks out the back gate, grinning to herself and reaching into her bag for her headphones and cigarettes.

Accidental fire = half day of school.

Forget that it is a Saturday and they already have a half a day. This is a grand adventure for the books. Maybe when she tells it she’d make it a full day of school and she was chased off the grounds by the principle. Yeah, that’d make for a better story.

With a slight head start, she can make it to Rikkai when they close and she can spend more time with the gang than normal. She smiles around her unlit cigarette, knowing there’s no actual point in lighting it with the train station so close. The taste still calms her, the same way music can.

Smoking will kill her one day, but that was kind of the point when she started.

The train ride doesn’t seem so long with her favorite songs blaring in her ears, so loud it will probably wreck her hearing a few years—but so will playing the drums.

She gets off the train a little ways off from Rikkai, texting the band as she walks towards the school. She’s excited. Little moments like this make her feel alive, make her glad that she’s alive.

She puts another cigarette in her mouth, lighting it this time and inhaling deeply.

Tapping her free hand on her thigh, restless without a drumstick in her hand, she walks through Rikkai’s front gates. Most of the students are outside, leaving to head home now that the school day is over.

Jackal is the first to respond to her text:

_Meet us in the gym._

She quickly types back _okay cool_ before pocketing her phone and heading around back to the school gym where she nearly walks straight into Nishimura, the vice-president of student council.

From what Kato remembers the guy is short and angry, more of a side-character that fills space than a plot point.

She goes to walk by him, but he grabs her wrist and she swears mentally. _Shit._

“You don’t go to school here,” the boy says, stating the obvious. Her uniform looks nothing like Rikkai’s.

“I don’t even get to be caught by Glasses?” she asks in jest. “C’mon, I deserve the president to take me in, not the vice-president. Baby, I’m worth it.”

“I hate that song,” Nishimura mutters.

“Will you let me go if I start to sing? There’s a reason I play drums instead of singing, you know.”

“Be quiet.”

“You can’t boss me around. You have no authority over me. Like you said, I don’t even go to school here.”

“Exactly. You’re trespassing.”

Kato rolls her eyes. She hasn’t heard _that_ one in a long time, not since she snuck into the Pyrite radio station to talk to Krewella. Zedd and Cobain can be such hard asses about those things.

“You’re also smoking underage,” Nishimura adds.

Okay. That one she can’t argue. She has to use a fake ID to buy her cigarettes—it’s way shitter than the one Kirihara’s friend made Yukimura, but it gets the job done.

“The principal can deal with you,” Nishimura says.

Kato groans because she is screwed ten ways from Sunday. The principal hates her. She attended Rikkai High for a grand total of one year before her mom caught her smoking and had her transferred. During that year, Kato had any number of detentions for skipping and playing drums with her pencils in class, and the principal was glad to get rid of her.

Nishimura begins to drag her by the wrist, and she’s about to break away when Sanada rounds the corner and spots them. Sanada is in his kendo gear, practice sword and all—so why is he outside of the gym?

Sanada’s eyes lock on and narrow at Nishimura, who visible falters.

“What are you doing to her?” Sanada asks, voice deep, and Kato grins. Oh. This is better than running away and leaving Nishimura in her dust.

“She’s trespassing,” Nishimura says, “and smoking.”

Kato drops her cigarette and stamps it out. “Not anymore,” she says with a shit-eating grin.

Nishimura glares at her.

“Nishimura, we both know you would be more helpful to Yagyuu in the student council room where he is doing paperwork for the spring formal,” Sanada says flatly.

“Look at his eyes,” Kato says, leaning towards Nishimura to whisper in his ear. She’s grinning like the devil. Nishimura looks nervously at Sanada. “He’s fucking crazy. He’ll shove that sword right up your—“

“ _You_ people are crazy!” Nishimura shouts. “First Yagyuu kicks me out when I mention that punk with the white hair and now this crap!”

“That’s it,” Kato says, nodding and grinning, “let it out.”

Nishimura continues to grumble and bitch to himself as he walks away, completely forgoing his issue with Kato. She isn’t going to complain.

Kato looks at Sanada. “Thanks for having my back. Thought for sure you’d let me get thrown into the metaphorical jail cell.”

“Don’t count on my support if you get thrown into a literal jail cell.”

Kato laughs. “Oh god, that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

Sanada doesn’t answer her question. Skeptically, he asks, “Couldn’t you have gotten away? Was his grip really that hard to break out of?”

Kato smiles. “Didn’t want to hurt the poor thing. He’s as skinny as a twig.”

Sanada doesn’t grin like she had hoped he would.

“Whatever you say,” he replies.

“Hey, do you know where the band is?” Kato asks. “They said they would wait for at the gym.”

“I’m practicing there. You are free to follow me.”

She shrugs. When Sanada begins to make his way to the gym, she follows a few steps behind.

“If you’re already in your dorky kendo gear, why are you walking around outside?”

“Instinct.”

Kato laughs. Sanada could be so simple minded sometimes.

When they reach the gym, it’s empty. Where the heck is the band? Kato sits on the ground against the wall, the taste of nicotine lingering on her tongue. She watches Sanada begin his kendo practice, his face serious and determined.

He’s passionate about kendo like she is about drums. She may not know much about kendo, but she admires his determination.  

She wonders how long she sits there, just staring at him, before the band comes and she jumps to her feet because she can’t let on that she was staring, can she? They would give her so much shit. Or kill Sanada. Maybe both?

She scans the group. It’s only her boys.

“Aiko’s not with you?” Kato asks, frowning. “I texted her but didn’t get a response so I figured she was already with you.”

“Her phone died,” Urayama says.

“She’s studying tonight,” Jackal says. “Big test Monday. I’m sure she’d appreciate a visit from you tomorrow afternoon, though. You know when she takes her scheduled breaks.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Kato says. “So where are we going? Marui’s house? Band practice?”

“My brothers are supposed to have friends over,” Marui says. “You know the rules. No playing if guests are over.”

“I saw Akaya talking to Yukimura on our way here,” Jackal says. “Sounded like they have plans—well, Akaya had plans, I don’t know about Yukimura.”

They look to Sanada to confirm.

“I told Seiichi to exclude me from any plans unless they’re on my off days,” Sanada says. “At least until my tournaments are over.”

“Let’s just try and find them,” Urayama says, already heading towards the gym exit. “Maybe we can join.”

The band follows. Kato turns around halfway across the gym, walking backwards, and smiles as she shouts, “Good luck becoming a deadly human weapon!”

She thinks she sees Sanada smile and that alone makes her smile.

Shit. She’s got it bad, doesn’t she?

But that’s an issue for another time.

 .

They find Kirihara as he’s leaving the school gates. He’s alone, staring at his phone, without his skateboard or headphones so he’s practically naked. They call out his name and he stops momentarily, giving them enough time to catch up and form a mob around him.

“Are you and Girly hanging out and can we join?” Kato asks.

“Huh? I’m not hanging out with Yukimura-senpai,” Kirihara says, looking very confused and slightly flustered, like he hadn’t expected them. “I’m just going home. Gonna do homework or something. Maybe watch a movie. I don’t know. Just home stuff. I’ll see you guys later!”

Kirihara walks away. When he turns the corner, Jackal frowns and looks around.

“Isn’t Akaya’s home in the _other_ direction?” Jackal asks.

“It is,” Oyama says.

“Weird,” Urayama adds.

“Not as weird as that conversation,” Marui mumbles. “Maybe he hit his head in gym or fell off his skateboard?”

Urayama brightens. Oyama practically reads his mind and gives the keyboard player a look. “Shiita, no. We’re not playing spies.”

“Why not?” Urayama pouts.

“It’s rude,” Oyama says.

“I am curious,” Marui says, looking between the band members to judge their reaction. Jackal and Kato shrug, with no strong preference, while Oyama sighs, knowing that he’s been out voted. 

Marui and Urayama high five in victory.

 . 

They follow Kirihara into town without being noticed. Kirihara goes past his usual hang outs until he reaches a diner, where he shuffles back and forth nervously. The band hides not so subtly behind a nearby food cart, but Kirihara is too out of it to notice them. Hell, Marui is pretty sure that if a meteor hit, Kirihara would keep pacing.

The second year stops pacing when a boy with badly styled, honey-colored hair walks up to him. Marui almost thought it was a girl, but they were far too muscular and broad-shouldered to be any girl Kirihara would hang out with.

Kirihara nearly trips over himself when the boy approaches. Or nearly vomits. Both?

Kirihara opens the door to the diner, allowing the boy in first.

“Okay, now even I’m curious,” Jackal says.

“Me too,” Kato says. “Let’s get closer. We can hide behind the flyers on the front windows.”

They move in, crouched together, looking awfully strange and sketchy. Oyama has to practically sit on the ground to see around the posters on the glass, and Kato is on her tiptoes, hanging onto Urayama and Jackal for support.

Kirihara and the boy sit a table. The boy is on his phone for a bit, texting or something, while Kirihara sits awkwardly and waits for their waitress.

Why would Kirihara hide meeting with a friend?

“Who is that?” Marui asks eventually. “Does anyone know?”

“His friend, Hiyoshi, I think?” Jackal says. “They come into the restaurant sometimes after skating. They usually have someone else with them.”

“I don’t think they would want a third person right now,” Oyama says. “Or maybe they would. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Urayama asks.

“Holy shit!” Kato exclaims. “Their feet; look at their feet!”

Underneath the table, Kirihara is gently kicking Hiyoshi’s feet, playing footsies. Hiyoshi kicks back rather hard, but Kirihara laughs and tosses a straw at Hiyoshi, who tosses it right back.

“And Kirihara-senpai held the door open awkwardly, remember?” Urayama says.

Jackal’s eyes widen. “They’re on a _date_?”

“That explains…” Marui pauses, thinking about that strange phone call he got from Kirihara, asking him how he knew he liked boys. “A lot, actually.”

“I knew they were eye-fucking at the Circus! I knew it!” Kato says. “Aiko owes me money.”

“You and Aiko bet on Akaya’s sexuality?” Jackal asks in disbelief.

“Hell no. There’s waaaay too many sexualities to do that. We bet on whether he wanted to hook up with his friend. But if I had to bet, I’d go with pansexual.”

“Bisexual,” Urayama says.

“Safe call,” Kato says, nodding in approval.

“Shouldn’t we go?” Jackal asks, looking nervous. “I feel wrong watching.”

“For once, I agree with Jackal,” Marui says. “This stopped being funny the second we realized he’s dating a dude. If he’s not ready to tell us himself, we shouldn’t know. Accidentally outing yourself is probably the worst thing that can happen if you’re questioning your sexuality or hiding it.”

“Okay,” Urayama says. “But can we stop and get something to eat? Seeing this place made me hungry—they have good milkshakes.”

“Ditto,” Kato says. She easily tosses an arm around Urayama’s shoulder and jumps up to toss her other around Oyama’s, pulling the large bass player down to their height. “The three of us found this great pizza place when you two were busy adulting and working at Jackal’s family restaurant.”

“You lead the way,” Jackal says.

Oyama ducks down and away from Kato’s arm, but does off her some of the gummy worms in his pocket as an apology for moving. 


	23. Chapter 23

Slowly but surely, everyone begins to hear back from universities.

Kato is accepted into everywhere but Tokyo, which she expected. She never wanted to go there in the first place. She may have the intelligence, but her grades dropped during her depression due to lack of giving a shit. She’ll go to Rikkai University, though, that’s for sure. She likes their psych program anyways.

Marui is accepted to Rikkai University the day he goes to see Ren. They’re planning a mini movie marathon like old times minus the kissing and the intimate touching. Marui is bringing the movies and Ren is providing a bed and the popcorn.

When Marui gets to Ren’s house, he’s let in by her mother, a nice woman who was under the impression they were dating several months ago and easily accepted that they “broke up but are still on good terms.” (And Marui though his relationship with Ren had been secret from their parents. That was an awkward talk.)

Ren is in the kitchen in front of the microwave with a giant, half full bowl of popcorn. “Just making the second bag now,” she says.

Marui jumps up onto the counter. “I brought some of my favorites.”

“Any comedies?”

“One or two. I’ll let you pick.” He kicks his legs back and forth. “You look nice today.”

“Sweatpants, bed head, and a tank top—so sexy.” She rolls her eyes to emphasize her sarcasm. But she smiles anyways because she knows Marui means it. He always has. “Doesn’t your boyfriend get mad that you always say that to me?”

“He’s never heard me say it to you. Even if he did, I don’t think he’d care. He knows I don’t have any intention other than making you feel good about yourself. He’s, like, super progressive when it comes to sexuality and is really mature about things.”

“I still need to meet this guy. He sounds really cool.”

“If you went to Yukimura’s over spring break, you would met him. He agreed to come last night, but _you_ are still refusing.”

The microwave beeps. Ren pulls out the bag of popcorn and dumps it into the bowl. “I would come, but the girls on the volleyball team want to spend time together since it’s our last year. Especially since our season is over, we never get to see each other anymore. It’s our last chance before summer.”

“We’re your friends too,” Marui says with what he hopes is a cute, convincing pout. “You always come with us during spring break. It won’t be the same without you.”

Ren gives him a look. “That look didn’t make me want to suck your dick when we were fucking around, and it’s not going to convince me to go to Yukimura’s over spring break now.”

Marui laughs. “Worth a shot.”

Ren shoves the bowl into his hands. “Let’s watch some movies.”

They sit on her bedroom floor with a mountain of blankets and pillows, half watching the movie playing on Ren’s laptop. Marui pulls out his notebook to write lyrics a bit. Ren leans her head on his shoulder and watches him work on a new song. He scribbles over lines, crosses out half a page from time to time, and tears our full pages and crumples them into balls that he throws in her trashcan.

“I like this line,” Ren says, pointing. “How would the tune go?”

“ _You’ll never learn to own if you’d just borrow,_  
_So own the night and spend it here with me,_  
 _And we’ll pretend that we’re famous. ”_

Marui makes a few notes about the tune then asks, “What about the line after it? Do you think that sounds okay?”

Ren nods against his shoulder. “Yeah, sounds good to me. I like this version.”

“I do too. I may make a few changes before I start writing the music. I want to finish it before spring break so we can play it.”

“You guys should do another album soon. You have all those songs you worked on over winter break and that one you did at the coffee shop—I saw a video, it was great. If you add this one, that makes, what, six new songs?”

“Seven,” Marui says. “So we’d need a few more for an album.”

“Maybe if you slept with your boyfriend you’d think of something to write.” Marui smiles at her bluntness. She says, “You’re seeing him after you leave my place tonight, right?”

“We’re gonna get high and hang out. He has some music he wants to show me. I wanted to ask him about college…”

“Oh, yeah, I meant to ask. Did you get a letter from Rikkai?”

“Yeah. I got in. You?”

“Yup. I’m going for the exercise science program.”

“Kato’s going there too—psychology. She wants to be a counselor.”

Ren lifts her head off his shoulder and looks at him. “So are you going to have sex with him tonight?”

Marui grins. He missed her random changes of topic.

He stretches out his legs and tilts his head back against her bed. “I don’t know. We don’t have a date picked out or anything, you know? I’m waiting for it to just happen when the mood is right or something.” Marui looks at her, grinning. “What about you? Have you found anyone?”

Ren shrugs, head still on his shoulder. “There’s this one guy. He knows what I did with you—well, nearly everyone knows what I did with you, but I told him about it anyways, just to be honest and upfront. I think that it kind of intimidates him, but it doesn’t bother him. He told me he’s never even kissed a girl, which is really cute. He’s in the school band—he plays trumpet—so I guess I have a thing for musical guys.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

Ren has a dreamy look about her. She sighs, smiling. “He is. I’m thinking about asking him out but I’m still not sure if he would say yes just to be polite or if he actually likes me.”

“That’s the worst.” Ren murmurs in agreement. Marui adds, “If he’s secretly a jerk, I’ll get Jackal to beat him up for you.”

Ren laughs. She puts her head back on his shoulder and goes back to watching the movie. “Thanks, Bunta.”

“No problem, Ren.”

.

Marui has only been in Niou’s room a handful of times, but he feels comfortable there. He jumps onto Niou’s bed when he enters, pulling a pillow to his chest and getting comfortable. The pillowcase smells like him—smoke, febreeze, some spicy soap with a hint of lemon.

Niou locks the door, cracks the window, and crawls under his bed. Marui stares at Niou’s ass in the air as he reaches for something. The curve of his lower back is one of Marui’s favorite things in the world, especially when Niou wears those tight jeans and loose shirts that slide up whenever he raises his arms.

“Are you staring?” Niou asks, voice muffled.

“Yup,” Marui says, grinning.

Niou comes back out. With a swift movement, he’s up on the bed and kneeling over Marui, knees on either side of him, with a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other. The sight makes Marui laugh. All those people that stereotype Niou as a bad-boy stoner are right to do so. 

Niou kisses him tenderly. Marui grasps Niou’s hair, moaning in surprise and content. God he loves kissing this boy.

Niou pulls back and grins. “Let’s get high.”

But Marui loves that too.

Niou moves away but he’s still close enough so their legs touch. He lights up the joint with ease, taking a while to get it going before passing it off to Marui.

The burn of smoke and the rough feeling of the joint between his fingers are familiar now. He anticipates the high to come, craves it, welcomes it with open arms as he puts the joint between his lips. Niou grins at him when he takes a drag. He laughs when Marui blows smoke in his face.

A year ago, did Marui think he would be where he is now—smoking pot with the hottest punk in school? No way in the hell. But he’s glad that he is.

Marui laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Marui says. “I just really like this. I really like you.”

“I think that’s enough,” Niou says, joking and taking the joint. He takes a long drag and blows smoke out through his nose.

It doesn’t take much for Marui to feel good, really good. It takes a bit longer for Niou to reach the same high, but when he does, he stamps out what’s left the joint on his nightstand.

Marui immediately grabs the front of Niou’s shirt. “C’mere.” He lies down, pulling Niou with him, and kisses him roughly. Marui feels like he’s flying when Niou smiles against his lips, the taste of pot lingering along with the harshness of the smoke. 

Marui clings to Niou and pulls him lower, forcing their bodies together. Niou rolls his hips roughly as he kisses Marui’s neck, his tongue pressing as surely as his lips against Marui's heating flesh. Marui ruts back up against him, not sure what he is doing but not caring because it feels _good_. He wants to feel more, more, more. 

Marui takes off his shirt then grabs Niou by the neck, steering his head back up and kissing him on the lips. He wraps his legs around Niou’s waist, craving contact, warmth, skin. They still have on too many clothes. He needs to be closer, to feel what he’s been dreaming and fantasizing about for weeks. Niou is so much warmer in real life.

Marui opens his eyes. Niou is right there, staring at him.

“Fuck, your eyes are so blue," Marui says without thinking. They look like the sea, and Marui can see the color moving like waves, breaking and receding like the rolls of Niou's hips against his. His eyes are hypnotizing. "Like an ocean, or the sky, or that sugar shit they have at carnivals.”

“Cotton candy?”

“Yes. I love that stuff.” Niou laughs. Marui practically moans, “And I love your voice. It’s makes me so fucking hard.”

“That is the kinkiest thing I have ever been told and I’ve been told some kinky shit.”

“Like what?” Marui asks.

“The normal things.” Niou kisses down Marui’s bare chest while watching Marui’s reaction. His lips pause to speak, his breath so hot against Marui's stomach it feels like burning lava. “Some things about my piercings and suggestions about what else I should get pierced. The guy who liked to rim me always talked about how good my ass tasted.”

“Does ass taste good?”

“Never tried it. Does pussy taste good?”

Niou shifts and grinds his groin against Marui’s, leaning over him, and Marui moans, gripping desperately at Niou’s arms.

“I don't mind it,” Marui says. Niou kisses his neck. Marui tosses his head back. He laughs and he doesn’t even know why. He feels so good. He’s never felt like this. He loves it.

Niou laughs too, sitting back to take off his shirt and unzip his pants, sighing when his erection is given a bit more room.

Niou sucks at Marui’s neck again. Marui runs his hands up and down Niou’s back, warm skin under his hands that slip around Niou’s hips to the front of his pants.

Marui rubs the palm of his hand over the bulge in Niou’s pants, pressing roughly with his the heel of his palm.

“Let’s have sex,” Marui says.

Niou’s lips pull away from his neck. “No.”

Marui grips Niou’s erection. “You feel like you want to.”

“Stop, Marui.”

Marui doesn’t want to stop but he does, pulling his hand back slowly. “Did I—?” Marui asks, not sure how to finish. “Did I do something wrong?” He’s never touched another guy before, not like this.

Niou shakes his head. “It felt good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Niou picks himself up and sits with his back to the headboard, his hips right next to Marui’s head. If Marui turned his head, he could kiss and nip at his piercings, easily reach his groin and touch him like he wants to. He could figure out how Niou tasted…

If he didn’t do something wrong, then what’s going on?

The moment is sobering, but Marui is far from it.

“But you want to, right?” Marui asks. He feels like he’s shaking with the desire to touch to Niou, like his body is on fire. Niou wants to and that’s all that should matter, right?

“I want to,” Niou says, looking down at him, “but we’re both high.”

“But—“

“I want to,” Niou repeats, sounding frustrated. He runs a hand through his hair. “But we haven’t had sex yet and I want to be sober our first time. I’m all for fucking while high, but we never talked about that. Consent is only consent if you’re sober.”

Marui sits up so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Niou, his exposed skin hot to the touch. Marui reaches down shamelessly and adjusts himself through his underwear, fighting the urge to stroke himself like he wants to. He’s so damn sensitive that every little touch is making it harder to think straight.

“Fuck, okay,” Marui says. “No sex while high. For now.”

But his erection won’t go away just because he knows he won’t be having sex right now. Niou doesn’t help by sliding a hand up his neck to his jaw and kissing him deeply, teasing with his piercing. Marui moans and grips tightly at Niou’s hair. He returns the kiss in a fever of lust.

Niou begins to pull away and Marui follows, wanting more, more, _more_. He ends up pressing his forehead to Niou, panting through his open mouth, unable to catch his breath.

“What do you consider sex?” Marui asks. “Can we do _something_?”

“No loop holes, Marui.” Niou slides a hand up into Marui’s hair. “Blame me for letting us go to far this time. But I like the way you look right now. I promise to make you look like this again."

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Niou pulls away completely and this time, Marui does not follow. The red head swallows thickly, exhales deeply, and reaches down to adjust his erection again.

“I need to get off or I’m going to keep being a horny mess,” Marui says. “You have your own bathroom, right? Can I use it?”

“Yeah.”

Marui goes to stand but stops when Niou grabs his wrist. Niou kisses him one more time, grinning perversely when he breaks the kiss. “Think of me,” Niou says, releasing Marui’s wrist.

“Like I’d do anything else,” Marui says.

He picks up his shirt as he goes and locks the door behind him. He looks at himself in the mirror and wonders if it’s the pot or Niou that’s got him looking like this. He looks wrecked. He touches his neck gently and sees the faint red mark that will no doubt turn into a dark hickey soon. His eyes are the size of the fucking moon.

Marui drops his shirt into the sink, grabs the box of tissues on the back of the toilet, and slides down the door to the floor. Closing his eyes and resting his head against the door behind him, Marui pulls his pants and underwear down just enough to comfortably grip his erection. He moans in relief at the lightest touch and there’s already pre-cum at the tip. How long as it been since making out turned him on so much?

How far would they have gone? Marui can’t imagine going down on another guy, but he wants to. He wants to see if Niou will grip his head between his legs like Ren did, or is that a girl thing? Would Niou tug his hair and guide him—that’d be hot. Would Niou get off on it, or would his inexperience with men be a turn off? How does Niou taste?

It doesn’t take Marui long to reach his orgasm. He comes into a tissue with a small, frustrated moan. He doesn’t want to fantasize about Niou. He wants to be with the real, living thing.

“This sucks,” he mutters as he wipes himself up. He curses Niou for unzipping his pants. They could have made out and kept grinding against each other if that hadn't happened, but Marui erases that thought. Niou took consent seriously, and so did Marui. 

He feels like he’s coming down too and not just form his orgasm. He tosses the tissues into the trash, washes his hands, and dresses completely. He reaches to open the door and pauses. He knocks.

“Uh, Niou, can I come out?” Marui asks.

“One— _ah_ —second.”

 _I knew it_ , Marui thinks. _He’s jerking off too._

Marui stands facing the door, wondering what he would see if he opened it. Niou on his bed, hand down his pants, or maybe he’s stripped naked and he’s jerking his cock without fabric to resist his movements. 

_I want to see._

He restraints himself, standing awkwardly, thankful he needs more than a couple of minutes to get hard again or he’d be in one hell of a situation.

Eventually, he hears Niou call for him to come in.

Marui opens the door slowly. Niou is on his bed, completely dressed, with his phone out. Marui sits on the opposite end of the bed. Niou smirks.

“Are you hungry?” Niou asks. “You look like you could use some munchies. Your eyes are bloodshot.”

Marui’s stomach growls. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry.

Niou jumps off the bed and towards the bedroom door. Marui follows. Niou kisses him before they go out into the hall. All at once, Marui is okay with this, because it’s Niou and he doesn’t want to fuck up their relationship.

They have time. They have each other. Isn’t that all that really matters? Their moment would come (though Marui hopes it comes sooner rather than later).

“Race you downstairs,” Marui says when they break apart.

Niou smirks. “You’re on.”


End file.
